Knights of the Future
by Peonywinx
Summary: 2998, New Metropolis. Sci-Pol cadet Imra Ardeen has lived here most of her life. Rokk Krinn arrives on tour with his champion Magnoball team. Garth Ranzz doesn't know what he's looking for, but he knows he needs help. An accident, a murder, a quest for revenge, and a government conspiracy bring the three of them together, making them the heroes the galaxy doesn't know it needs.
1. The Paladin, the Everyman, & the Damsel

**_A/N: *waves* Hello. Um...I know I said the Green Lantern fic would be coming out next...I AM still working on that - it's just that this story suddenly popped out of nowhere and I couldn't resist. I wrote this up quite fast, actually. The GL fic will be published too, of course - I shall turn my attention back to that once I've finished this._  
**

**_So, a bit of background then - this is, I believe, my first Legion fic since I first started on FanFiction - oh, about five years ago. And personally, I believe it's a vast improvement over anything I wrote back then. I've grown a LOT since I first started writing, and I thought it was high time I gave the Legion - my first fandom - a chance to shine with my improved skills. And since I've almost completed the story and my birthday is today, I thought there was no better time to post it for you all to read.  
_**

**_So, without further ado, I present to you the 30th/31st century timeline of the Diamond Earth universe, and the beginning of the Third Age of Heroes._**

* * *

**TALES OF DIAMOND EARTH  
**

Knights of the Future

**Chapter I: The Paladin, the Everyman, and the Damsel **

_27 October 2998_

Rokk Krinn of the Magnetic Knights watched from the window of the cruiser as it descended to the docking station. This would be his first time to Earth, and the child-like excitement bubbling within him at the prospect reminded him that, despite being a sports star of galaxy-wide fame, he was still only a teenager.

Opposite him, Hercule Herdoni, the Knights' first-choice left vanguard and Rokk's closest friend on the team, said with a grin, "So, Krinn, first time on tour as captain of the Knights – and on the most prominent planet in the United Planets, too. How does it feel?"

"It feels amazing," Rokk answered honestly. "I can't believe this is happening. The last three years have been like a dream come true."

Herdoni scoffed. "A dream? This is much better than a dream, Krinn – it's a blissful reality."

Nevertheless, it _was _a dream, Rokk mused as he continued staring out the window. There was a significant crowd gathered around the docking station – Earth fans of the Magnetic Knights. Although Magnoball could only be played by Braalians, it was a popular spectator sport throughout the United Planets.

When Rokk started playing Magnoball for his small school team, he'd never imagined that his talent for the sport would propel him first into the regional team, and then into one of Braal's six planetary teams that competed for the highest trophy in Magnoball: the Braalian Magnoball Cup. The Magnetic Knights were the current champions – in no small part due to Rokk's truly incredible skill at the game – which was what had led to this galaxy-wide tour after the end of the Magnoball season. And at the tender age of 17, Rokk was both the youngest player ever to be named Braal's number one Magnoballer and the youngest team captain in the history of the Magnetic Knights. It was a far cry from his under-privileged background, when he'd had to spend hours after school helping his father in the mines just to make ends meet.

Rokk's amazing story was another reason for the tour – the galaxy wanted to meet the famous young Magnoballer who had achieved such spectacular success and captured their hearts with his swashbuckling talent, extraordinary leadership, and dashing good looks.

"Look, there's your crowd of adoring fans," Herdoni teased.

"They're the team's fans, not mine," Rokk reminded him with the well-practiced tone of someone who had had this conversation before. While the other members of the team liked and respected Rokk, that didn't stop them from teasing him relentlessly about his age, his fame, and anything else they could think of.

Herdoni smirked. "If you say so."

Rokk didn't care. He truly was living the dream. He was able to support his family by playing a sport he loved. He was happy. Life was good as a Knight.

* * *

Garth Ranzz stepped off the transport shuttle and looked around the station with interest. Having lived on an agricultural planet like Winath for the entirety of his almost 16 years of life, he was used to wide, open fields and the natural hues of greens, yellows, and browns. Here, in New Metropolis, the predominant colors were white, grey, and electric blue, and the largest open space was the City Botanical Gardens, which – judging by the map on the street directory holoscreen – was at least four miles south of the station.

Winath rarely got news of the rest of the galaxy, so Garth knew precious little about what was happening on Earth, let alone New Metropolis in particular. Thus, the first thing to do was to get caught up on current events; Garth believed nothing good ever came of being ignorant. To that end, he made his way to the station news screen, groaning when he saw how many people were clustered around it. Garth decided to wait a few minutes for the crowd to disperse.

However, after three minutes (Garth was not very patient), the crowd had not thinned one bit – in fact, it had grown _bigger_. Curiosity piqued, Garth edged as close as he could, glad for his recent growth spurt because if he'd been standing here a year ago he would never have been able to see over the swarm of heads blocking the way. Garth was honestly amazed by how many people there were. _What in Nath's name is so interesting?_

Garth found a strategic spot that, if he stood at _just _the right angle, allowed him to see through the gaps in the people all the way to the screen. From that distance, he should not have been able to see the new clearly, but a recent incident had sharpened his eyesight to the point where he could easily make out what everyone was so excited about.

While the left side of the screen was scrolling all the latest news updates, the right side was taken up by a live video of a sports cruiser docking at the New Metropolis Spaceport. The cruiser was a sleek cobalt grey color with purple accents. The video zoomed in on a logo on the ship's hull: a solid black horse standing stoically on all fours in side profile, with its medieval rider depicted in dark purple, holding a Magnoball instead of the traditional lance or sword.

Garth felt a thrill. Even Winath, isolated thought it was from the rest of the United Planets, had a strong Magnoball following, and Garth's favorite team had always been the Magnetic Knights. Their style of play reflected characteristics of his own personality – they were fast, instinctive, and innovative, and had shown in their triumph at the Braalian Magnoball Cup final a willingness to take daring risks.

Garth watched as one by one, the members of the Magnetic Knights exited the cruiser, some with a wave and a smile for the cameras, some with just a nod. The last Knight to come out was the young team captain, whose appointment Garth had disagreed with because he felt he was too measured and composed to lead a team that relied as much on blitz attacks as the Knights did.

The caption at the bottom of the video announced that the Knights would be playing an open-to-public Magnoball game in the Botanical Gardens (oh, the irony, Garth mused) tomorrow morning. Garth was on Earth for another reason entirely, but he decided at once to go for it.

After all, when was the next time he'd have a chance to watch Magnoball played live?

* * *

"Stop that thief!"

The blonde teen knew what was happening before the shout, and she whirled on the spot, sticking her arm directly in the path of the fleet-footed robber who had made off with a man's credit stick. Her elbow sank painfully into the crook's stomach as he ran full tilt into it.

16-year-old Imra Ardeen plucked the credit stick from his hands as he doubled over wheezing in pain, and returned it to the well-dressed citizen who ran up behind them.

"Here you go, sir."

"Thank you, young lady." The man frowned at the gasping thief. "Why don't you go on with your business – I'll call the Science Police."

"Actually, sir," said Imra, "I'm a Sci-Pol cadet. I'll take him back to headquarters."

The man looked at her, impressed but uncertain. "Are you sure? He's twice your size."

"Don't worry, sir, I can handle him," Imra assured him. As if to prove her point, she produced a pair of handcuffs and locked the criminal's hands behind his back. "Have a good day."

Imra capably steered her captive through two streets to get to the NMPD HQ building; he wasn't keen on the idea, but a subtle telepathic nudge kept him compliant.

At the entrance to NMPD HQ (otherwise known as New Metropolis' 1st Precinct), Imra encountered a brown-haired boy of about 14 who observed her and her arrestee with an amused expression.

"You know you don't graduate from the Academy till next month, right?"

Well-used to his remarks by now, Imra merely rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here, Lyle?"

"Dropping off EI reports for my dad." Lyle's father, Lon Norg, was the Chief of the New Metropolis Police Department, but Lyle himself had been working for Earthgov Intelligence as a spy from a young age. "Hey, guess what?"

"What?" She couldn't linger long; her captive was getting fidgety.

"I finally perfected the invisibility serum!" Lyle's grin was triumphant; he'd been working on that serum for months.

"That's great, Lyle. You can demonstrate it to me later. Right now I've got to get this guy in before he decides to make a break for it."

"Fine, fine," Lyle agreed, skipping on his way. "See you later."

"Later." Imra prodded her thief firmly in the small of his back and marched him into the building.

* * *

"The game will start at 1000 hours sharp," the Magnetic Knights' manager informed them in the hovercar on the way to the hotel. "The members of each team will be selected at random at 0930."

"Wait, wait, random?" said Herdoni. "What if we end up with all the defenders on one team and the attackers on the other?"

"The selection software isn't that primitive," Rokk pointed out reasonably. "Since we've already programmed our specs in, it will undoubtedly balance the selection on both teams."

"Which means you and I are most likely going to be on separate teams." Herdoni gave an exaggerated sigh. "Life is so unfair."

Rokk looked amused. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, of course everyone is going to cheer for _your_ team," Herdoni said patiently. "So I won't be getting much love from the audience. Of course," he added smugly, "that also means the pressure is all going to be on you. You're gonna have your work cut out for you, Captain Fantastic."

Rokk rolled his eyes. "Shut up, idiot – you have your own fangirls, you know."

"Yeah," Dar Frol, one of the Knights' controls, chimed in. "Remember, 'Pretty Knight'?"

"Ugh!" Herdoni made a face. One misguided fan at their Braalian Magnoball Cup final had made a banner that proclaimed him as 'Hercule Herdoni, the Pretty Knight' – and his teammates weren't going to let him forget it. "We are not talking about that."

"But I thought you _liked _being appreciated?" Jaxok Kreel, the vice-captain and sentry, chortled. It was he who had first noticed the banner midway through the game. He hadn't played the final, since the Magnetic Knights had done what no Magnoball team had ever dared to do before and opted to go with an attack-minded formation that included no sentry.

Rokk smirked. "I'll tell them to stuff it if you quit teasing me about being 'Captain Fantastic'," he offered.

Herdoni pretended to think about that. Frol caught Rokk's eyes and obligingly called out, "Pretty Knight thinking!"

"Deal," Herdoni said hastily. The hovercar filled with laughter from his teammates.

* * *

Garth wandered aimlessly on the roads, realizing belatedly that he had no idea where to begin his search. New Metropolis was a sprawling megalopolis that stretched over much of North America's eastern seaboard, with almost 70 million residents to its name. Trying to find one person was like looking for a needle in a haystack – and he knew from firsthand experience exactly how impossible _that _was.

"I really should have thought this through," he muttered under breath. He walked under a shadow, and raised his head to stare at the towering skyscraper. "How do people live in these things?" he wondered. His own two-storey home on Winath was a ground hut by comparison.

Garth's tastes were simple, but his thoughts were anything but. Right now, they were running in a multitude of directions – where he should stay tonight, where he could start looking, whom he could possibly ask for help, what Ayla was probably doing on Winath right now, where Mekt might be, concern about the electricity that always lay just beneath the surface…

On cue, his fingers began to tingle, and before he could control it he'd singed a hole in his shoes.

"Sprock," he muttered, shaking his hand to discard the excess sparks from his inadvertent lightning discharge before bending to observe the damage. Luckily, the lightning had only burned through the first layer of his left boot, not the second, insulating layer.

A glance up at the sky (what little he could see of it amid all the skyscrapers) told him that dusk had fallen; the sunlight was fading even as the city's nightlights started automatically switching on.

"You look lost," a voice commented, and Garth turned to see a girl about his age standing behind him. Her shoulder length hair was blonde and slightly wavy, and her eyes were a unique deep pink color. Under her autumn coat she was wearing a pale pink knit top made of natural fibers – a relative rarity in the ultra-modern 30th century – and practical white jeans. Garth felt something strange flutter in his stomach.

"I…uh…kind of am," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

The girl gave him a once-over; Garth subconsciously straightened his spine under her gaze. "New here?"

"Arrived this afternoon," Garth confirmed.

"Where are you headed?" the girl asked.

"Um…honestly? I have no idea." At her puzzled frown, he explained, "I'm here looking for someone to help me with…something – but I don't know where to start." He cast another glance at the darkening sky. "And I guess I should find some place to spend the night."

"Yes, you should," agreed the girl. "The Science Police do their best, but New Metropolis can be dangerous at night. An alley like this is no place for someone unfamiliar with the city." She pointed the way she had come. "There's a boarding house about five blocks back and to the left. They should have a room for you to stay the night."

"What's the price like?" he asked warily.

The girl smiled briefly. "Cheap."

"That's good – I don't have many credits. I probably need to get a job while I'm here…"

"You really didn't think this through, did you?"

Garth shrugged. "Guess not."

The girl shook her head. "Well, I need to get going. I hope you find who you're looking for."

"Hey, wait," Garth called. "Should you be out here alone?"

The girl smiled. "I walk home this way every day. It's a shortcut to where I live. Goodbye." She rounded the corner before he could say anything else, and Garth was left to lament the fact that he hadn't asked for her name.

* * *

_**A/N: A few announcements before I leave you to review:**_

_**1\. I will be updating daily, as usual - but once we head into November I might be a little irregular - I'll keep you informed in my author's notes.**_

_**2\. I have liberally mixed up pre- and post-Zero Hour, Threeboot, and animated Legion lore to create the Legion of Diamond Earth, and freely added brand-new ideas in several instances, so don't be surprised if some things are very different. **_

_**3\. Most of the work in establishing the Diamond Earth Legion and their world will be done in the sequel to this story (which isn't coming out for a while - not till after the GL story, at least), but there's a fair bit of world-building in here too.**_

_**4\. There are Easter eggs galore for hardcore Legion and DC fans throughout this story. Be sure to let me know which you like, because I love spotting Easter eggs and I love it even more if people notice the references I've deliberately inserted. Happy hunting!**_


	2. Tourney Games

_**A/N: The two reviewers on the last chapter are two who have been reading my stories for years. Thanks to **TheVioletRose **and **leathman** \- and to **CharmedSerenity **for subscribing. How are you, **Charmed**?**_

_**Oh, yeah - and I don't own **Legion of Superheroes**.**  
_

* * *

**Chapter II: Tourney Games**

_28 October 2998_

"Ta-da!" Lyle vanished before Imra's eyes, allowing her to see the kitchen counter he'd been leaning against.

"That's remarkable, Lyle," said Imra, sounding genuinely impressed. "I'm having trouble finding you even with my telepathy."

"Seriously?" Lyle became visible again, appearing several feet to the right of where he'd been standing. "You mean I'm not just invisible, I'm undetectable too? That is _interesting_…I wonder what else the serum hides me from?"

"Does anything you come in contact with turn invisible too?" asked Imra.

"Hmm?" Lyle realized she was wondering why his clothes had disappeared along with his body. "Oh, I treated my clothes with the serum as well. Wouldn't have been a very impressive demonstration if you could still see my coat and pants."

"Is it permanent?"

Lyle shrugged. "I don't know. It might be – I've only taken the one dose, and it's lasted more than 24 hours already."

"Lyle, are you using yourself as a test subject again?" Imra's tone was faintly disapproving.

"No," Lyle responded unconvincingly.

"Do you have any idea what the side effects of this serum are?"

"So far, none," Lyle said cheerfully.

"So you willfully injected yourself with an experimental serum with no idea of the possible side effects or how long the effects last?"

"Imra, relax," said Lyle. "I only injected myself with it _after_ I calculated the risks. I'm not totally reckless, you know."

Imra ignored him in favor of filling her glass with water from the tap.

"Are you going to the Botanic Gardens?" Lyle inquired.

"For what?"

"The Magnetic Knights are playing a public Magnoball game. Imra!" Lyle sounded shocked that she had forgotten.

"I don't follow Magnoball," she reminded him.

"But I do, and as the close friend of a true fan, you have to come with me."

Imra raised her eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I need you to drive me there."

Imra rolled her eyes. "There's such a thing as public transport."

"Do you know how many minors follow Magnoball? The transports will all be packed! Imra, come on!" Lyle exclaimed. "The Knights just won the Braalian Magnoball Cup! They're galactic sports stars! How often are you gonna get to see champions play Magnoball live on Earth? Plus," he added slyly, "their captain's really good-looking."

"What difference does that make?"

Nevertheless, Imra did end up acquiescing to Lyle's request (demand, more like) that she chauffer him to the Botanic Gardens.

* * *

From the moment he entered the place, Rokk was fascinated by the Botanic Gardens. Braal was a planet without much plant diversity, and the variety of flowers in the front lawn alone was more than Rokk had ever seen before. If he had the time, he would've taken a leisurely stroll around the grounds to take in the sights. As it was, their manager, Collazo, was hurrying them along to the pro tem Magnoball field that the logistics department had set up, consisting of a temporary sheet of rubber pavement laid over a large swath of grass and marked with laser-etched lines imitating the boundaries of a real Magnoball pitch. Rokk was not entirely surprised to see that there was already a substantial crowd waiting even though it was only 0915.

Beside him, Herdoni asked, "You ready to play some ball?"

"I'm always ready," Rokk returned.

Their entourage made its way towards the pitch, accompanied by shouts and cheers from the audience. For their part, the Knights played the crowd expertly by waving and smiling – they were used to this sort of attention by now, even Rokk, the youngest. After playing professional Magnoball for three years, he knew the value of good PR.

Rokk felt a slight jolt to his shoulder, like static shock, and he looked around in confusion, wondering what could possibly be in close enough vicinity to transmit electricity. There was nothing around except people and plants – but a ginger-haired youth who was scowling at his fingers caught his notice. Dressed in a simple green vest over a black shirt and faded brown pants, he didn't look like a New Metropolis citizen, though when he lifted his head and met Rokk's eyes he grinned with as much excitement as any fan. Rokk smiled back and went to stand on the line running through the exact center of the pitch.

After Collazo had a made a short speech thanking the citizens of New Metropolis for turning up, the team selection got underway. The regular number of players on a Magnoball team was eight, so the Magnetic Knights' sixteen-man squad was just nice for an internal game. A member of the tech team projected a large holoscreen in the middle of the pitch and activated the selection software. After a few seconds, two faces appeared on opposite sides of the screen, prompting instant cheers and applause from the crowd.

Collazo announced, "The team captains are Rokk Krinn and Hercule Herdoni!"

Herdoni caught Rokk's eye as they moved to stand on opposite sides of the field. "I told you," he said with a grin.

* * *

By the time Lyle and Imra arrived at the Botanic Gardens, the Magnetic Knights' squad had been split evenly into two teams, and Collazo was informing the audience, "The two teams will now have ten minutes to discuss their strategy before the game. We will begin at 1000 sharp." The two Knight sides retreated to opposite ends of the field for their pre-game huddle.

"Damn, we missed the team selection!" Lyle groaned.

"The team sheets are up there." Imra gestured at the holoscreen still shimmering over the pitch, which displayed the lists of names on both teams in clearly visible Interlac. Lyle quickly scanned through the names.

"Ooh, that's interesting – Krinn and Herdoni are on opposite teams," he said gleefully. "They usually link up really well in games – it'll be cool to see how they play against each other."

"Is that the captain?" Imra asked, pointing to one dark-haired young man who was making authoritative gestures within his group huddle.

"Yep, that's Rokk Krinn," confirmed Lyle. "Hot, isn't he?"

"He's too old for you, Lyle."

"He's seventeen."

"Really?" Imra looked at Rokk more carefully. "He looks older."

"He's very mature. You should see his interviews." Lyle grinned.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but it's unlikely you'll have a chance with him," said Imra. "Besides, didn't you say there was a boy who lives next to your house you think you might like?"

"Yeah, Condo's pretty cool." Lyle shrugged. "We'll see where it goes. Hey, I'm gonna get closer." He disappeared so fast Imra suspected he was using his newfound invisibility powers.

Imra turned back to Rokk, who was now giving specific instructions to each member of his team. She had to admit, he _was _very handsome.

* * *

At 1000 hours exactly, the two Knight sides took their positions on the field. From their formation, Garth saw that both teams were playing with sentries, and he was slightly disappointed – he'd been hoping to see a repeat of the no-sentry formation that had allowed the Knights to crush their opposition in the Magnoball Cup final with an incredibly fast-paced attacking blitz. _Still, _he reasoned, _it ought to be a good game._

The umpire blew his whistle, and the match began.

The aim of Magnoball was simple: each team had to try to send the ball through the high vertical hoops at either end of the pitch. There were four hoops in two colors and two sizes – the large black hoop (called Axis Black) and the small blue hoop (Pole Blue) were at one end of the field, and the large blue hoop (Axis Blue) and small black hoop (Pole Black) were at the other end. The small hoops were barely an inch larger in diameter than the magnoball, and so maneuvering the ball through them required much greater skill. Getting the ball through Axis Black was worth 1 point; getting it through Axis Blue was worth 2 points; Pole Black was worth 3 points and Pole Blue was worth 4 points. At the end of 75 minutes, the team with the most points won the game.

The execution of Magnoball, on the other hand, was much more complex. The ball was made of a special type of metal that was only semi-magnetic, so the players could only magnetically control it accurately over short distances; the traditional skills of aiming and throwing the ball still applied to long passes (though of course it helped to give it a magnetic boost to aid its trajectory). Players could pass the ball to their teammates, snatch it from an opponent's hands, intercept it in midair, or even reverse its trajectory entirely. They could only handle the ball magnetically, and were not allowed to physically touch it; however, physical tackles on players were allowed. The ball was not supposed to cross the outer boundary of the pitch at any time; the team that caused it to do so automatically granted the other team a penalty. Teams could choose which penalty they wanted to take: either a shot at Axis Blue from a long distance, or a shot at Pole Black from a short distance.

In addition to these basic rules, there were a number of different formations Magnoball teams could play. The typical configuration was that of a pilot (who was the main person in charge of maneuvering the ball through the hoops and thus usually the most skilled member on the team) and two vanguards (the supporting attackers who aided the pilot); two controls who patrolled the sides of the pitch and ensured their team did not send the ball out; two disruptors, who were responsible for thwarting attacks and stealing the ball from the opposition; and a sentry, who stood on a marked spot on the midline and whose sole objective was to break up opposition play from the middle – or, in the case of penalties, try to defend the hoops. The sentry's position in the center of the pitch was vital for interrupting attacks, as there was a conductor beneath the pitch that increased that player's magnetic advantage, and any opposition player had to get within their enhanced magnetic range to advance the ball – but the sentry was not permitted to move from his post for the entirety of the game. Playing without a sentry allowed an extra body to move about the pitch, but it was risky because the team would lose protection in the midfield (no one except sentries could stand on the conductor) and have no one to defend against penalties.

The Knights' game was fast and furious, with both sides fairly equally matched thanks to the selection software. Rokk's team had the clear advantage in attack, since he was one of the best pilots in the sport thanks to his extraordinary magnetic control; but Herdoni's sentry, Jaxok Kreel, was the Knights' first-choice sentry and obviously superior to the second-choice sentry who was his opposite. Commentary on the game was provided by renowned reporter Loretta Lane, who was famous as a direct descendant of Superman and Lois Lane.

"Dargg has the ball, passes it to Herdoni, Herdoni skips past the sentry – no, wait, Brekka's managed to dispossess him – oh, he's miscontrolled, it's going out! – but kept in by Frol, who wastes no time getting it down the pitch to Cryz – Cryz passes to Magz, who gives it to – whoa! Nice feint, he just stopped it short in midair – back to Cryz – tosses it to Krinn – Krinn scores through Pole Black! 3 points to Captain Krinn's team!"

A resounding cheer went up from the watching spectators as Rokk expertly squeezed the magnoball through the small black hoop from close range. He jogged back to a more central position, high-fiving his two vanguards, Cryz and Magz, before returning the ball to Herdoni's sentry as was the rule (the opposite team's sentry was given possession after someone scored). At the umpire's whistle, Kreel quickly made a long pass that sent the ball almost completely to the left end of the field, where it was collected by Herdoni. Before Rokk's disruptors could react, Herdoni had given it to his pilot and his pilot had forced it through Pole Blue.

"That was unbelievable!" Loretta Lane exclaimed as the crowd roared with approval, Garth among the supporters of Herdoni's team. "An instant reaction from Herdoni's team – they now lead 4 points to 3!"

By this time a quarter of an hour had passed. The Magnoball was retrieved and given back to Rokk's sentry, Brekka. The umpire blew his whistle, and play started again.

* * *

As the game progressed, Imra found, much to her surprise, that she was actually enjoying it. She began to understand why Lyle was such an avid fan of Magnoball – it was a thrilling and electrifying display of magnetic superiority by the Braalians. Some Magnoball teams preferred to inject more composure into their game by playing with more controls and disruptors, which made for rather tedious viewing when attacks were continuously interrupted; the way the Magnetic Knights played, however, was breathtaking, with their focus consistently on attack, with the result that plenty of points were scored after fluid link-up plays on both sides. Imra tended to track Captain Krinn's movements; his magnetic control was superb and his range was longer than the other players', and every so often he would shout instructions or encouragement to his teammates. Imra admired his athleticism and intelligence in the game – and, of course, his good looks.

There were 32 minutes left on the clock, with Rokk's team leading 12 points to 10, when Imra felt something brush her mind. With her exceptional telepathic abilities, she identified what it was in an instant. Alarmed, she forced her way through Rokk's mind with a simple but powerful mental command.

_~Duck.~_

* * *

**_A/A (Author's announcements):_**

**_1\. I suppose I could say that I own Magnoball in all but name - I created the rules and the sport terms myself._**

**_2\. Aside from Rokk, two of the named members of the Magnetic Knights squad are actual DC Comics characters. Can you guess which two?_**

**_3\. Lyle keeping his homosexuality is my concession to the realistic sense of the story - in the 30th century such a thing would be perfectly normal.  
_**


	3. Melee in the Orchard

_**A/N: Yay, there's more readers and reviewers! Thank you so much to **leathman, Seychelles, andytanjiahou95 **(I'm still surprised you made an account ;)**, **and **sgsupersoda **for your reviews. Yes, **Seychelles**, there will be more ****LGBT characters, even some in the 21st-century stories of Diamond Earth. **  
_

_**For those of you who don't know, the two DC characters in the Magnetic Knights are Collazo, the manager, and Dyrk Magz (who was only mentioned by his last name), a vanguard on Rokk's team. Collazo was Rokk's army commander in the Five Years Later series, while Dyrk Magz was Magno, an actual member of the Legion in the Reboot.**_

_**This is my favorite chapter of the story. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this.  
**_

* * *

**Chapter III: Melee in the Orchard**

_28 October 2998_

No one had time to be startled when Captain Krinn suddenly collapsed on the Magnoball pitch, because at that same moment a bright red laser sliced across the playing field, immediately creating a panic among the audience. The Magnetic Knights all but threw themselves off the pitch as the spectators broke ranks in countless different directions. Those around the edges of the crowd scattered at once, while the unfortunate majority were trapped in the middle of a mass of solid, moving bodies – which, as the panic level escalated, devolved into a deadly human crush. The Magnetic Knights' security personnel rushed in to protect the team and escort them to safety, but in the pandemonium, no one noticed that their captain had been left behind.

In her anxiety, Imra had been too forceful with her telepathic directive and had inadvertently left Rokk unconscious. She felt it the moment his mind buckled under the force of hers, and she cursed the momentary loss of control that now left him utterly helpless. If Rokk Krinn died here, it would be on her hands. She couldn't allow that to happen. Imra spared only a brief thought for Lyle before she peeled away from the surging crowd and shoved her way towards the Magnoball pitch as quickly as she could.

Loretta Lane had switched seamlessly from sports commentary to breaking news report, speaking rapidly to the floating holocam as she described the situation. She was now forced to drop to the ground as more lasers seared through the air, hitting several civilians; one laser grazed Imra's arm just as she reached Rokk. The pain was sharp and burning, but Imra tried not to let it distract her as she bent to pull Rokk to safety. Unfortunately, she was unable to use her injured limb, and she wasn't strong enough to drag Rokk's solid frame of muscle and sinew with only one arm. Imra tried calling for help, but in the deafening noise no one heard her. Just as she was about to despair a pair of hands grabbed Rokk under his arms.

"I got him. Come on!"

Garth half-carried, half-dragged Rokk's inert form across the garden and into a thicket of bushes; Imra followed, nursing her arm.

"You're the boy from yesterday," she realized. "The one from the alley."

"The name's Garth," he replied.

"Imra," she responded.

"Nice to see you again, Imra. Now I think we should scram before any more lasers come after us." He glanced down at Rokk. "I don't see any injuries; what happened to him?"

"It was sort of my fault," Imra admitted apologetically.

"What?" Garth had to raise his voice to be heard over the increasing noise and panic around them.

"I'll explain later. Didn't you say we should scram?"

"We'd better take him with us too," said Garth, looking at Rokk. "Got a place in mind?"

"My house isn't far from here," Imra offered. "We should be safe there. Can you carry him to my hovercar?"

Garth frowned. "Not without help. He's heavier than he looks."

"I'll help."

Garth glanced at her burned arm. "You're hurt."

"I've still got one arm I can use. We should be able to manage it together."

"All right," Garth agreed. "I'll take his upper body, you support his legs."

They tried it that way, Garth lifting Rokk's torso over his shoulder and Imra trying to encircle both Rokk's legs with her uninjured arm, but after a few unwieldy steps it became clear it wasn't working.

"Now what?" Imra asked, looking apprehensively over her shoulder.

Garth was biting his lip. "I have an idea, but it's risky."

"How risky?"

"There's a good chance I might kill him."

Imra stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"I am very serious," Garth disagreed. "The question here is whether we should risk it, or see if we can weather it out here."

"I'm not letting you try something that could kill him."

"Okay, so we'll stay here, then."

Someone screamed just then, out of sight but still sounding very close. Garth and Imra met each other's eyes as they both reassessed the wisdom of that decision.

Garth quirked an eyebrow in a silent question. Imra sighed.

"Don't kill him."

"I'll do my best." Garth looped his dominant right arm around Rokk's chest, securing his forearm under Rokk's armpits, so that Rokk's back was almost flush against his chest. "Okay, I need you to go on in front, and make sure I keep going in the right direction," he told Imra.

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see."

"No, tell me," Imra insisted.

Garth gave her a look. "I really don't think we have time for me to explain, and we _definitely _don't have time for me to persuade you to let me do it."

Imra was beginning to have second thoughts about this plan. "What is _that _supposed to mean?"

Someone ran past the bushes they were hiding behind, close enough to rustle the leaves. Garth's tone became impatient.

"Look, we _really _don't have time. Just point me in the right direction and trust me."

Imra narrowed her eyes, but she pointed to their right. "There's a gate behind those trees – we can get out through there."

"Okay." Garth turned so that his back was facing the direction Imra had indicated. "Here goes." He extended his left arm in front of him, careful to keep it parallel to Rokk's body, closed his fingers, and concentrated. White-hot electricity erupted from his fist, and before Imra could react, he simultaneously pushed with his legs and fired the bolt of lightning.

He felt a hard, dizzying _whoosh _and heard the scream of the air around him as he landed roughly on the ground; but as he'd planned, the force of the lightning propelled him, with Rokk in tow, several feet in the right direction. Garth grinned, allowing himself a small celebration that his idea was working, before Imra ran up to him, her face incredulous and alarmed.

"What the hell was that?!" she demanded.

"My plan," he responded. "Let's keep going."

"This is crazy! How good is your control over that?"

"Good enough. Let's _go_." Garth repeated the process, firing another bolt of lightning that took him and Rokk into the cover of trees. The gate was a few meters away; another round of lightning-fueled propulsion got him there.

"How far is your car?" he asked once Imra had caught up with him.

Imra took a few seconds to orient herself. "It's just a few blocks this way," she said, gesturing. "About five minutes' walk."

"Lead the way."

* * *

Since lightning was an awkward way to travel with a passenger, it took them almost eight minutes to reach the sidewalk where Imra had parked her hovercar, by which time Garth was sweating and panting, with more than a few scrapes and bruises. Imra quickly unlocked her car and helped Garth load Rokk into the backseat, then she slid into the driver's seat and tapped on the built-in communicator on the dashboard.

"What are you doing?" Garth queried disbelievingly as he strapped himself in next to her. "Drive!"

"Hang on," snapped Imra, putting through a call. The dial tone beeped, but no one answered. "Come on, Lyle," she muttered, redialing while she started the car and pulling out of the parking space. The second call yielded the same result: no answer from Lyle. Imra didn't call again, but her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

"Whoever your friend is, I hope he's okay," Garth offered.

Imra didn't take her eyes off the road. "I hope so too."

She drove with speed, avoiding the main roads and landmarks and taking the car down obscure turnings and narrow routes instead. Garth rather thought she might slow down as she took the hairpin curves, but she simply careened past them without a care for the brakes.

"Holy nass, _slow down_!" he exclaimed as the hovercar tilted at a terrifying angle.

"You use lightning to travel and you're worried about my speeding?" Imra's tone was incredulous.

"I don't do that on a regular basis!"

"Shut up and trust me," said Imra, echoing his own words back to him even as she stepped on the accelerator, causing the car to zoom forward down the small road.

"Where did you learn how to drive?!" Garth bellowed. Sparks were beginning to form in his hair.

"Sci-Pol Academy. Put those away!"

"Put _what _away? Hey, _look out_!" he yelled.

Imra swore as she swerved to avoid an illegally parked hovercar; Garth's lightning very nearly short-circuited their engines. Imra slammed on her brakes and turned to glare ferociously at him.

"_Those_," she hissed, referring to the sparks still lingering in the scorch mark on her dashboard. "Put _those _away."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Garth said hastily. "That was an accident – it won't happen again."

Imra's eyes turned shrewd. "You can't guarantee that, can you?" she realized.

Garth exhaled regretfully and ducked his head. "No," he confessed. "Not really. It's worse when I get anxious," he qualified, "so maybe you could slow down…?" His face was hopeful.

Imra rubbed her temples. "How did I get myself into this?" she mumbled. She resumed driving, at a more sedate pace this time, much to Garth's relief. Within two minutes she pulled up in front of a large, attractive town house with a small flower garden at the side. She killed the engine and unlocked the doors. "Come on."

Without the panicked urgency of escape, it was somewhat easier for the two of them to wrestle Rokk out of the car. Imra brought a sheet from the house, and together they rolled Rokk onto the cloth and dragged the sheet through the front door. Then they both sank to the floor with relief, breathing hard.

"Merriweather, lock the doors," Imra ordered.

**_"Doors have been locked."_**

Garth raised an eyebrow at the electronic voice. "What was that?"

"The house's AI," Imra replied.

"Interesting." He turned to look at Imra. "So," he began, "that was some second meeting."

"What?" Imra was confused for a moment before she realized what he was referring to. "Of all the – _that's _what you're thinking?"

"Hey, what are the odds that we'd meet again just when some psycho decides to let loose some lasers in the middle of a public Magnoball game?"

Imra shook her head. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"Good, neither do I." Garth gestured at Rokk. "So, what did you do to him?"

Imra grimaced. "I'm a telepath; I sensed the attack a second before it happened. He was the target, so I warned him mentally – but I think I overdid it."

"No kidding," said Garth, prodding Rokk's chest. "He's still out cold."

Imra gave him an exasperated look. "If you'd stop talking, I can wake him up."

"Hang on – before you do, we'd better have a good explanation ready for him."

"We saved his life and kept him from being stampeded over. What other explanation is there?"

"Yeah, but it was partially your fault we had to do that and we essentially kidnapped him and brought him to your house," Garth pointed out.

"So?"

"Imra, Rokk Krinn is a _galactic sports star_. If he decides to sue we are screwed."

Imra was nonplussed. "Why would he sue?"

Garth scoffed. "How should I know how these famous types think?"

"You're over-complicating things," said Imra. "We'll just tell him the truth. Now hush." She placed her fingers on her temple and laid her other hand on Rokk's head. She closed her eyes as she concentrated on de-traumatizing his mind from her significant mental influence, but Garth was still able to see the pink glow under her lids.

After several seconds, Rokk stirred. Imra removed her hand from his head and they both watched as he regained consciousness.

Rokk instantly noticed that he was in an unfamiliar place. "Where am I?"

"Safe," replied Imra. "I'm Imra, this is Garth. You're in my house."

"What happened?" Rokk groaned as he sat up, massaging his head.

"There was an attack in the Botanic Gardens. I told you to duck. I used too much force, I'm sorry," she apologized.

Rokk looked at her, his brow creased. "You're Titanian," he noted. She nodded in confirmation. "So you telepathically knocked me out?"

"Unintentionally," she clarified. "I was trying to warn you."

"Yes, I remember that. Why am I here?"

"Well, after that first laser, everyone went nuts," answered Garth. "Your teammates made it away safely, but they missed you in all the commotion. Imra and I saw that you were defenseless, and we brought you here."

Rokk seemed to accept that. "Thank you."

"Rokk, you were the target of the attack," Imra informed him. "Someone was trying to kill you. I wouldn't advise going out until we know exactly what's happening."

Rokk frowned. "I need to contact my team."

"All right, but don't tell them where you are," said Garth. "Don't want to lead the shooter straight to you."

Rokk waved dismissively, which instantly grated on Garth's nerves. "I think the Knights' security can handle a would-be assassin."

"Are any of them telepathic?" Garth challenged. "And can any of them do _this_?" He lit up his fist with electricity; Rokk's eyes went wide and he took a few steps back.

"Garth, stop playing with lightning," Imra ordered. "I don't need you electrocuting us. Rokk, you're free to do what you want – you can either get back together with your team, or you can stay here until we figure out what to do."

Rokk's first inclination was still to call Herdoni or Frol and tell them he was fine, but something – perhaps it was his gratitude or curiosity about his two teenage saviors – made him want to accept Imra's offer, or at least stick around long enough to find out what she planned to do.

"I'll stay for the time being," he decided, "but I still want to get in touch with my team."

"All right," Imra agreed. She stood up. "Make yourselves at home. I need to make some calls."

* * *

_**A/N: Nothing to announce today - just that you guys should continue reading and reviewing =) Your reviews make my day!  
**_


	4. Code of Chivalry

_**A/N: Thanks to **andytanjiahou95 **and **leathman **for re****viewing last chapter. I'm glad you two are enjoying this story.**  
_

* * *

**Chapter IV: Code of Chivalry**

_28 October 2998_

After Imra left them in the foyer, Rokk patted his pocket and realized that his Magnoball uniform didn't _have _pockets – ergo, no communicator.

"Nass," he muttered. He glanced at the other boy. "Garth, right?"

"Yup," Garth said cheerfully.

"Do you have a communicator I could borrow?"

Garth shrugged, opening empty hands. "Sorry."

Rokk frowned. "When Imra said we could make ourselves at home, do you suppose she meant we could use the landline?"

Garth looked at him as though he were crazy. "Are you insane? You're not supposed to let them know where you are!"

"It's just a landline," Rokk argued.

"A landline's ID is going to show up on any communicator you call," Garth reminded him.

"Okay, so my team finds out where I am. Big deal."

"It _is _a big deal, you pretentious prat! Someone is trying to _kill _you, and you want to broadcast your location? I thought captains were supposed to be smart."

"No one on my team is going to give my location to someone who tried to kill me," Rokk said impatiently.

"You've never heard of public phone records?" Garth said deprecatingly.

"You're awfully paranoid, aren't you? The chances that someone would scroll through _thousands _of recorded calls just to see if I happened to use a landline are slim to none."

"Stranger things have happened," Garth said stubbornly. "_Trust _me, I speak from experience." Rokk scowled. "Look, if you're not worried about your own safety, then at least think of Imra's. This is her house. If the wrong person discovers she was helping you, she could be in danger."

"I repeat, the chances of someone discovering the call would be almost nonexistent. But I see your point," he conceded. "It's not ethical for me to risk her safety, however small the risk might be."

"Now you're getting it."

There was a pause, then Rokk said, "So, what do you want to do while we wait?"

Garth shrugged. "Explore?" he suggested. "This is a pretty sweet house."

"Should we be doing that?"

"She _said _to make ourselves at home. What else do you want to do? – sit around here like a couple of ninnies?" Garth took a few steps in what he assumed was the direction of the kitchen. "Come on, I bet you're hungry after that workout."

* * *

The first call Imra made was to Lyle, again. He still didn't pick up, and she began to worry that something really had happened to him. She hoped he'd been able to get out of the crush of people.

The next call she made was to Chief Norg at NMPD HQ, both to inform him that his son was missing and to find out what the Science Police knew about the incident.

_"I'm busy, Imra," _Lon snapped as his face appeared on the comscreen. Behind him, his office looked to be in a state of disarray.

"I know, sir, but I thought you should know that Lyle and I were in the Botanic Gardens."

_"What? You _were_?"_

"Yes, sir – we went to see the game."

Lon scanned the space behind her as best as he was able to from his screen, but he found no sign of his son. _"Are you at home? Where's Lyle?"_

"I'm at home. But Lyle and I were separated – I haven't been able to contact him."

There was a short pause; Lon's brow furrowed with worry. Offscreen, someone yelled for him, and his face took on a smooth, in-control expression.

_"Duty calls," _he said – no one could ever blame Chief Norg of being less than 100% committed to his job. _"Lyle can take care of himself." _He sounded certain, and only his next sentence indicated that he was still anxious. _"You call me the minute you hear from him, understand?"_

"Yes, sir."

Imra's last call was to Shvaughn Erin, a young and newly-promoted lieutenant on NMPD whom she knew fairly well. They weren't all that close, but she had trailed Erin for a week as part of her practical training and they were on speaking terms.

_"Lieutenant Erin," _Shvaughn responded. She frowned when she saw who was calling. _"Cadet Ardeen," _she said, _"Why are you calling?"_

"I want to know what's happening with the investigation," said Imra. "I presume you're the chief investigator.

_"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," _said Shvaughn. _"In case you've forgotten, you don't have the full rights of a Sci-Pol officer until you graduate."_

"I haven't forgotten. But I was at the scene – I'm calling as a citizen who wants to know why I was shot at."

_"You were _there_?" _Shvaughn said incredulously. _"Why aren't you at the precinct giving your statement?"_

"I had civilians to protect."

_"They need to come too."_

Imra hesitated. Sci-Pol protocol did require that as many witnesses as possible give their statements to the police, but if she involved Garth and Rokk in this things would get even more complicated than they already were. So she did something that could potentially cost her her Sci-Pol graduation if her superiors found out about it: she defied a ranking police officer.

"They've already gone home. I didn't get their names."

Onscreen, Shvaughn frowned disapprovingly. _"You should have gotten their contact details before you sent them home. You know this, Ardeen – you're less than a month from becoming a full-fledged Science Police officer."_

"I know, and I'm sorry. In my haste to get them somewhere safe protocol slipped my mind."

Shvaughn exhaled. _"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much – we've got officers at the scene taking statements from hundreds of people – I doubt a few civilians would have seen or heard anything more than what everyone else did. But you need to come down to HQ ASAP."_

"Yes, ma'am."

_"I'll be expecting you. Erin out." _The screen closed as Shvaughn ended the call.

Imra went looking for Garth and Rokk, who had ended up in the living room instead of the kitchen and were watching Loretta Lane's live coverage of the aftermath of the laser shooting.

_"Science Police have cordoned off the area and are now taking statements from citizens who were attending the Magnoball game. Medical units have arrived and started treating the injured – the death toll is estimated to be around 50 people, most of whom were caught in the human crush, but many more sustained injuries. We have no word yet on who or what could have caused the attack."_

"They won't know yet," said Imra. "The investigation has barely been opened." She picked up her coat from where she'd draped it on the couch.

"Where are you going?" Garth inquired.

"I need to get down to NMPD HQ to give my statement – my superiors are expecting me. You two can stay here until I get back – help yourself to anything, do whatever you want. Ask Merriweather for anything you need."

_"Merriweather?" _Rokk mouthed questioningly at Garth, who waved impatiently; Imra hadn't yet finished talking.

"I shouldn't be gone long. _Ow._" She stopped and grunted as the burned skin on her arm brushed against the sleeve; she had all but forgotten about her injury. Both Garth and Rokk frowned.

"Didn't you take care of that?" Garth demanded.

"Honestly, I forgot about it." Imra glanced at the wall chronometer. "I'll treat it when I get back."

"No," said Rokk sternly, rising from his seat. He removed her coat from her grasp, ignoring her protests. "You will treat it now. How long has the wound been open like that?"

"NMPD can wait," Garth agreed. "Your burn might already be infected."

"I don't think it is," Rokk told him as he inspected Imra's arm. "But it will be if you go downtown without treating it."

"I don't have time –" Imra began.

"Sit," Rokk interrupted, firmly pushing her down on the couch. "Where do you keep your first aid supplies?"

"Seriously, I'm fine…"

"Imra, neither Garth nor I is going to let you leave until that wound is treated, so you might as well save yourself the trouble and just get it over with."

Imra met Rokk's eyes and saw nothing but determined resolution; he wouldn't force her, but he was not going to give her a pass on this. Sighing, she nodded in acquiescence.

"The medikit is in the cabinet in the foyer," she relented.

"Garth, can you get it?"

Without a word, Garth slipped out of the living room. Rokk gently took Imra's arm and turned it so her burn was facing upwards.

"Is this how you treat all girls?" Imra asked, with a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Only those who save my life," he bantered back with a slight grin. Imra smirked.

"I got the kit," Garth announced, bustling back to the couch.

"I'll need the antibiotic solution, cotton balls, gauze, and tape."

Imra looked at Rokk in surprise while Garth rummaged in the medikit. "You're treating me?"

"How do you propose to clean and dress the wound one-handed?" Rokk asked. Imra cringed.

"I guess I didn't think of that."

"Nope," said Rokk. He took the antibiotic solution Garth handed him and poised it over Imra's burn. "This will sting," he warned her, before pouring some over her arm. Imra winced, but didn't complain as Rokk used the cotton balls to clean the wound. He was gentle with his ministrations, careful not to cause her more pain than necessary. After he finished with the cotton balls, Garth cut a square of gauze and Rokk taped it securely over Imra's wound. "There," he said, meeting her pink eyes with his dark purple. "Now you can go to NMPD."

"Thank you." Imra cleared her throat and stood up, shrugging into her coat. "I should be back by 1400. If you're hungry, the kitchen has a replicator as well as proper food."

"We'll be here," Garth assured her.

"See you later, then." She exited the room. Rokk and Garth heard the smooth purr of her hovercar leaving the driveway.

"She doesn't live here alone, does she?" Rokk asked.

Garth shrugged. "Don't know. Just met her yesterday."

"Really? You seem quite familiar with each other."

"Saving a Magnoball captain together apparently has a way of bonding people," Garth quipped. "Why do you ask if she lives alone, though?"

"Because I'm wondering what we'd say to her parents if they happen to come home."

**_"Sydne is away for the week," _**a disembodied voice supplied helpfully. Rokk jumped.

"What is _that_?" he exclaimed, looking around wildly.

"That's Merriweather." At Rokk's stare, Garth explained, "Apparently this house comes with an AI. Hey, Merriweather," he addressed the ceiling, "Where's the kitchen?"

**_"Are you asking for directions in relation to your current location?" _**

"Well, _obviously_." Garth rolled his eyes. "Not very smart for an AI, is it?" he whispered to Rokk.

**_"I heard that."_**

Garth startled, then frowned. "Just tell me where the kitchen is, please."

In response, a holographic map of the house, with their current location marked in electric blue, appeared in front of them. **_"The kitchen is located here." _**One section of the map glowed green. **_"Would you like specific verbal directions?" _**Garth swore he heard a hint of sarcasm in Merriweather's monotone.

"No, thanks, this is fine."

**_"You are welcome. Happy eating."_**

Garth and Rokk waited a moment, but it became clear that Merriweather had said all he – it? – wanted to say. Shrugging in unison, they consulted the house map, then set off to the kitchen.

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. I'll be using a lot of 31st-century-related jargon, particularly for objects in the time period. You should be able to figure out what most of the terms mean from the context, but if anything is not clear, please do ask, and I'll clarify what they're supposed to be.**_

_**2\. This story is as much about character development and interaction as it is about the plot. So there'll be several chapters where it's just Imra, Garth, and Rokk talking. Never fear, though - this is a Legion story, after all, so there are also action chapters.**_


	5. Taking Up the Gauntlet

_**A/N: Thanks to **andytanjiahou95, The Violet Rose, **and **leathman **for reviewing yesterday's chapter (are you ****three gonna be my regular reviewers? ;) **  
_

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.  
**

_**Oh, look - there's plot today!**_

* * *

**Chapter V: Taking Up the Gauntlet **

_28 October 2998_

It was well past 1400 by the time Imra finally came home. Garth and Rokk were in the kitchen slurping up a milkshake and finishing a steak, respectively.

"You did say to help ourselves," Garth pointed out when Imra entered and raised her eyebrow at them.

"I used the replicator," said Rokk. "I hope I didn't overstep."

Imra waved a hand. "It's fine." She spied an empty coffee mug on the counter and asked, "Who drank coffee?"

"Wasn't us," said Garth, chugging away at his milkshake. "That was there when we came in."

"Oh. It must be Lyle's, from this morning. He's always forgetting to wash up."

"Still no word from him?" Garth asked sympathetically.

"None." Imra unearthed a tin from a cabinet and withdrew a teabag. She needed something soothing after the day she'd had.

"Who's Lyle?" inquired Rokk.

"A close friend of mine," Imra replied, pouring hot water into a mug. "We were at the game together. He's a big fan of yours."

"Ah." Rokk noticed that Garth was glaring at him, for no reason that he could determine. "What?"

Garth shook his head and didn't answer. "Sci-Pol took your statement?" he asked Imra instead.

"Yes."

"What'd you tell them?"

"The truth. Or, most of it."

Rokk frowned. "What did you leave out?"

"You two," Imra replied. She seemed dissatisfied about something. Rokk was perceptive enough to notice.

"What did the Science Police say?" he questioned. "Do they have any leads yet?"

Imra scowled. "They're barking up the wrong tree with that," she muttered darkly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Garth.

"They don't think it was an intentional attack," Imra responded. "A tech team discovered that the laser machine they used to draw the lines on the Magnoball pitch malfunctioned – Sci-Pol think that's what threw the lasers around."

Garth was astonished. "Didn't you tell them what you sensed?"

Imra sounded frustrated. "Of course I did, but they're keen to wrap this up quickly. There's been a string of high-profile homicides recently – murders of famous or wealthy people – and the public's putting real pressure on NMPD to solve them. Their caseload is already heavy and all the evidence seems to point to the laser machine – they don't want to entertain any notions that it might not be so cut-and-dry."

"Hold on – they're not even going to consider the idea that it wasn't the machine?" Rokk was rather alarmed that the Science Police didn't appear to be taking the attempt on his life seriously.

"The machine _did_ release most of the lasers, and it _was_ around that time," Imra allowed. "My hunch is that the only laser that wasn't fired by the machine was the first one aimed at you, and whoever took the shot tampered with the machine so it would cover his tracks."

"By creating more chaos and providing a perfectly innocent explanation for the laser," Rokk concluded. "No one would have counted exactly how many lasers were fired – the one aimed at me would easily be passed off as another one from the machine."

"Hold on – NMPD _bought _that?" Garth said in disbelief. "Those idiots. But can't you make them listen to you? I thought you were a Sci-Pol officer?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" asked Imra.

"Before, in the car, you said you'd learned to drive at Sci-Pol Academy."

"I haven't graduated yet. Technically, I have no authority, so I can't make them investigate other possibilities."

"Bureaucrats," Rokk sighed.

"Speaking of which," Garth said to Imra, "are your parents in the government? I came across a 'Reward for Services Rendered' plaque in one of the rooms."

Imra nodded. "My mother is the Titanian ambassador to Earth. We moved here when I was four."

"Your AI – Merriweather – told us that she's away," said Rokk. Imra nodded.

"She's on Titan, visiting my father and sister. She won't be back till next week."

"You guys don't all live together?" Garth sounded perplexed.

Imra smiled ruefully. "My father is a high-ranking official within the Titanian government. He couldn't possibly relocate to Earth. And my mother didn't want to turn down the ambassadorial position."

"How come you decided to follow your mom to Earth?"

Imra shrugged. "My sister was only two at the time – there was no way she was moving to Earth, and I didn't want my mother to move alone."

"I think that was very thoughtful of you," Rokk told her with a smile. Imra smiled back.

An instant later Rokk yelped and snatched his hands from the table as an electric current ran through the metal top. Garth cursed loudly as he too pulled his hands away.

"Will you _stop _doing that?" Rokk exclaimed irritably, with a tone that indicated that this wasn't the first time it had happened. "That must be the third time you've shocked me today." His eyes widened as recalled the momentary 'static shock' he'd felt in the Botanic Gardens before the Magnoball game. "Hang on – this morning in the Gardens, that was you as well! That's _four _times in as many hours! What is _wrong _with you?"

"Sorry, sorry," Garth mumbled.

"He can't help it," interjected Imra. "He doesn't have full control over the lightning."

"Are you serious?" Rokk studied Garth. "You must be at least 15 – you should have mastered your abilities by now."

"I wasn't born with them, all right?" Garth retorted, annoyed at Rokk's holier-than-thou tone.

"You weren't?"

"Since when have Winathians been born with lightning powers?" Garth demanded. "And for your information, I'll be turning 16 in a couple of weeks."

"You're from Winath?" Rokk examined him more closely. "I didn't know."

"Well, you never asked, did you?" Garth said sourly.

Rokk bristled. "Hey, there's no call for that kind of tone."

"What tone?"

"_That _tone!"

"Both of you, shut up!" Imra snapped, causing both boys to startle as they turned to her. "I have had a long, hectic day, and it's barely the middle of the afternoon, and you two shouting at each other in my kitchen while I'm graciously putting both of you up in my house is not helping!"

There was a short beat of silence as Garth and Rokk exchanged somewhat sheepish glances.

"Sorry," Garth said.

"I apologize," Rokk added.

Imra sighed. "Me too. It's the stress talking." She made her way to the table and sat down next to Rokk. "Okay," she told them, "what I'm about to say may sound crazy, but the way I see it, there's only one thing we can do. I _know _what I sensed, Rokk, and you were definitely in danger – you probably still are. However, NMPD is clearly not going to listen to us, and my mother, the only person who could perhaps persuade them to do so, is off-planet. The only option left to us would be to investigate this ourselves."

"Us?" Rokk repeated incredulously.

"I don't think it's crazy at all," said Garth, grinning at Imra. He was clearly relishing the prospect of taking action on their own. "If those idiots at NMPD don't want to see what's in front of their noses, and we _know _that something's amiss, we should take matters into our own hands."

Rokk gaped at them both. "Are you listening to yourself? We're three teenagers against an unknown assassin, without training and without the resources the Sci-Pol have."

"I have training," Imra reminded him.

"And we have advantages the Sci-Pol don't have," Garth pointed out. For a moment he looked as though he were going to make lightning again, and Rokk and Imra both reared back cautiously. Garth scowled. "All right, so I need to get better at the lightning thing. But both of you have really good control over your powers – can't you help me with that?"

Imra and Rokk exchanged glances.

"I can help," Imra agreed.

Rokk sighed. "I suppose I can too," he acquiesced reluctantly. "Are we really going to do this?"

"Don't you want to find out who's trying to kill you? Or are you too chicken?" Garth said challengingly.

Rokk's eyes narrowed at him. "I'm not chicken."

"Prove it, then. After all, it's your life that's in danger."

Rokk glared at him. Imra said reprovingly, "Garth."

Garth shrugged, unrepentant. "So you in or what?" he asked Rokk, who set his jaw.

"Fine, I'm in."

* * *

Shvaughn swiped her hand across the e-paper, touch-writing out the full report of her investigative team's efforts regarding the Botanic Gardens incident to give to Chief Norg, who would approve it before declaring the investigation officially closed. Any other ranking Sci-Pol officer would have felt jubilant at wrapping up a case of this magnitude in less than 24 hours, but Shvaughn merely counted herself lucky that what could have been a torrid investigation had instead been resolved quickly and efficiently, with a conclusion that didn't result in an absolute PR nightmare. If it had turned out that there actually _was_ someone deliberately aiming shots at a team as famous as the Magnetic Knights while they were on tour in New Metropolis, the press – mainly that insatiable Loretta Lane – would've had a field day tearing NMPD to shreds for their failure (never mind that they weren't actually at fault for anything).

Fortunately, that outcome had been avoided. Analysis from both the technology and ballistics departments had confirmed that the lasers had come from the machine used to etch lines on the Magnoball pitch – the disaster in the Botanic Gardens had been nothing more than a tragic accident due to malfunctioning equipment. The final death toll was 52 – some had sustained fatal injuries from the misfiring lasers, while others had been crushed in the panicking crowd. The Magnetic Knights were unharmed and intact, with the exception of Captain Krinn, who had not been seen since the ill-fated game and was being labelled as a missing person. Shvaughn was fervently thankful that _that _particular can of worms had been assigned to someone else to handle. She did pity the company that had provided the laser machine, though – if Krinn had been injured or killed in the accident, or even if he failed to reappear, the Magnetic Knights would sue them for all they were worth.

Shvaughn completed the last sentence in her report and picked up her stylus to pen her signature below it, but she hesitated, recalling the statement given by Cadet Ardeen. While the majority of the department agreed that the Botanic Gardens had been an accident, Cadet Ardeen had been quite insistent that there truly was a conspiracy afoot, claiming that her telepathy had picked up deliberate intent to kill from an unknown shooter. Shvaughn didn't think there was anything in them, but she had dutifully conveyed Ardeen's suspicions to Chief Norg. The chief had been rather impatient with the very idea, regardless of his personal connection to Ardeen and her mother, and insisted that none of the evidence pointed that way. Shvaughn at first had been rather inclined to agree with him (she wanted to close this case as much as he did) – but in retrospect, perhaps Ardeen might have been on to something? Telepathy was a useful, but inexact science, but Shvaughn had heard whispers that Ardeen was extraordinarily talented even by Titanian standards. Moreover, it was entirely possible that Chief Norg had been distracted, however slightly, by his concern for his still-missing son.

Thoughtfully, Shvaughn set her stylus down, wondering if the matter was worth pursuing. There was nothing wrong with signing her name and closing this investigation now, because all the necessary channels had been followed and all the evidence did indeed point to it being an accident – but if there was a chance that it hadn't been an accident, her conscience told her she should explore the possibility.

Then again, how far could the Science Police be expected to go? NMPD already had a backlog of cases as well as a series of high-profile homicides to worry about (people were beginning to suspect a serial killer); taking on another major case on the basis of one cadet's (admittedly dubious) testimony would be foolish in the extreme.

Shvaughn was only allowed several seconds to wrestle with the problem before a comscreen appeared over her desk.

_"Lieutenant Erin, there's an incoming call for you from Mars' Division One." _

"Patch it through," Shvaughn instructed. A second later two people appeared on the comscreen, standing in front of the reddish background of Mars' Division One Sci-Pol communications room: a tall, broad-shouldered, brown-haired young man and a shorter, petite woman with cropped dark hair. "Lieutenant Cusimano, Officer Allon," she greeted. "What news?"

_"R.J. Brande has just arrived on Mars,"_ Gigi Cusimano responded. _"He's informed us that he will only be here one week, after which he's intending to travel straight to New Metropolis."_

Shvaughn groaned. "He's not detouring to Osterkey first?"

_"Apparently not. I thought you should know. I tried to call Chief Norg, but he's inaccessible."_

Shvaughn sighed. "We had some trouble here earlier – his son's AWOL."

_"Lyle?" _Officer Allon looked concerned. He was a rookie, barely a year out of the Academy, posted to Mars shortly after his graduation to partner Cusimano. During his Academy days he'd been good friends with both Cadet Ardeen and Chief Norg's son. _"What happened?"_

Shvaughn gave them a very brief summary of what had occurred during the Magnetic Knights' Magnoball game. "It couldn't have happened at a worse time, what with all the homicides here recently," she bemoaned.

_"Yes, I'd heard about that," _said Cusimano. _"So many influential people in New Metropolis killed within a fortnight. Is it the same perpetrator?"_

"We don't know yet. And speaking of which, I have to get back to work. Thanks for the update – I'll let the chief know."

Shvaughn ended the transmission and leaned back in her chair, trying to stave off an imminent headache.

R.J. Brande's arrival was going to put even more stress on an already overstretched NMPD. The wealthy Durlan industrialist had been travelling across the galaxy for several weeks as part of his new charity campaign, and had been slated to arrive in New Metropolis – after spending a short R&amp;R visit on his estate in Osterkey – a week later than Cusimano reported before he'd changed his plans. While his cause was a noble one, Shvaughn wondered if he knew just how much headache he was causing for the Science Police, who had to ensure his safety while he was in their city. As a galactic public figure who was extremely active in both business and politics, Brande had many enemies, and any one of them wouldn't mind taking advantage of a charity event to be rid of him.

Nevertheless, she mused as she reached for her case report, this did settle her dilemma quite definitively. With Brande due to arrive within a week, there was no way NMPD could afford to spare people for a deeper investigation into the Botanic Gardens incident.

She lifted her stylus and signed the report without a second thought.

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. The connection between the Ardeens and the Norgs will be explained later.**_

_**2\. Yeah, I couldn't resist a 52 reference. Don't know why - it's not like I like the New 52.**_


	6. Honor Thy Neighbor

_**A/N: Looks like I've found my loyal three reviewers. Thanks again to **The Violet Rose, andytanjiahou95, **and **leathman**. Also thanks to **meerkat4 **for subscribing.**  
_

_**We're back to character focus today, but there's more plot coming tomorrow.**_

* * *

**Chapter VI: Honor Thy Neighbor**

_28 October 2998_

"We should go back to the Botanic Gardens as soon as NMPD has cleared out of there," said Garth. It was mere moments after they had decided to work together to undertake their own investigation, and all three teens had wordlessly and mutually assumed that they were starting right away. "You know, look for clues and stuff."

"What clues? NMPD isn't _that _inefficient – they would have bagged anything of note by now," Rokk pointed out patiently, provoking an irritated glance from the redhead.

"There's always something," Imra disagreed. "The Science Police aren't infallible."

"How come you wanted to join them, anyway?" Garth wanted to know.

"Because even though they're flawed, they fight crime and injustice, and that's what I want to do."

"While we're on the subject, what exactly is _your _problem with the Science Police?" Rokk questioned of Garth.

"I don't have a problem with them."

"You clearly don't have the best opinion of them," Rokk asserted.

"I don't have the best opinion of _you _either," Garth shot back. "Does that mean I have a problem with you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, it does! What _is _your issue with me, anyway? What did I ever do to you?"

"My issue is that you're a pompous, insensitive blockhead who thinks he can get away with anything because he's famous."

"How dare you?" Rokk was incensed, on the verge of rising from his chair. "You don't even _know _me! What have I done to make you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Garth's tone was mocking. "Maybe it's the fact that you so confidently believed that the Knights' security team could keep you safe, because they _clearly_ did a terrific job of it at the Magnoball game? Or that you haven't asked me or Imra a _thing _about ourselves? Oh, and the fact that you obviously think you're better than me – that _couldn't_ have anything to do with it."

Rokk abruptly stood up; his chair scraped noisily against the floor as he pushed it backwards. "I do _not _–" he began hotly.

"For Saturn's sake!" exclaimed Imra, thoroughly exasperated. "What _is _it with the two of you? We're supposed to be a team and here you are, biting each other's heads off for no apparent reason! Can't you at least _try _to get along?"

"I have a problem with people who jump to conclusions about me just because I'm famous," Rokk declared, glowering at Garth, who had also jumped to his feet.

"Well, you sure haven't done a lot to disprove those conclusions," retorted Garth. Electricity began to sizzle around his body. His eyes flashed. Imra, who had been standing next to him, hastily put some distance between them.

"Garth, calm down!" Imra instructed.

Rokk, however, did not seem concerned; his hands were glowing with purple magnetism. "You haven't made a sparkling impression yourself," he scoffed at Garth. "You're rash, hotheaded, and with powers like yours _that you can't control _you're a danger to everyone around you."

"You don't think I _know _that?" Garth exclaimed. His lightning crackled dangerously, but stayed close to him. "I didn't _ask _for these powers! Why do you think I'm on Earth, huh? It wasn't to save an arrogant jackass like you!"

"If you dislike me so much, why did you volunteer to investigate with us?"

"Oh, you think you have me figured out, don't you?" Garth's response was scathing. "You think that because I don't like you I'd let that get in the way of doing what's right? I have news for you, Magno-boy – _my_ parents raised me better than that."

Rokk bristled. "Are you trying to imply something about my family?" he demanded.

"You said it, not me."

"Why, you little –"

"_ENOUGH! _Both of you!" Imra bore down on their minds with a mental compulsion for them to stop the argument. The force of it was strong enough to make them sit down, and for a second they both blinked uncomprehendingly.

"That was unfair," Garth complained, looking at her reproachfully as his lightning gradually dissipated.

"You're not supposed to invade our heads without permission," Rokk agreed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we being polite now?" Imra's tone was distinctly peevish. "Maybe you two ought to extend the same courtesy to each other?" she suggested pointedly.

They had the grace to look slightly ashamed of themselves, even if they were still glaring at each other. Imra sighed.

"The way I see it," she said, "you _both _have made assumptions about each other that neither appreciates. There's a distinct lack of communication going on here, which needs to be sorted out _before _we do any investigating. If we're going to be working together, you two need to understand each other."

"How are we going to do that?" Garth demanded.

"Why don't you tell each other a bit about yourselves and your lives?" Imra proposed.

Garth and Rokk stared at each other for a long moment. Rokk was the first to consent.

"All right," he acceded.

"Fine by me," Garth assented.

"Okay," Imra said with some relief. "Rokk, you start."

"Why does he get to start?" Garth questioned. He quailed under Imra's glare, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Braal is an impoverished planet," Rokk started, looking pointedly at Garth. "Our economy relies mostly on mining and Magnoball. Many families face a daily struggle just to make ends meet. My family was one of the poorer ones. Life was tough for us; my father and mother had to work long hours every day, and we still didn't have enough to eat some days, even though they would often give up their food for me and my brother.

"I used to help my father in the mines after school every day, but I practiced Magnoball whenever I had some free time. I was fortunate enough to be noticed by my school coach, and he put me on the school team. I worked hard to hone my skills and my abilities, but when I was 13 my father was killed in a mining accident."

Here Rokk had to pause to regain his composure; his grief, even after four years, was still obvious. Imra silently placed a comforting hand on his arm, while Garth, for once, had nothing to say.

After several seconds, Rokk cleared his throat and continued, "My father's death made things harder for us. I was going to quit Magnoball and find work to help support the family, but my mother convinced me to stay in school." Rokk smiled fondly as he remembered how ardently his mother had argued with him. "The school team coach had said I was good enough to go pro – and I wanted to do that from the day he told me I had a chance. My mother wanted me to follow my dream, so she made me stay on the team. I felt guilty leaving her to work to support us alone, but I trained hard and I was eventually given a spot on the regional team. Once I started my professional career, I was able to bring in enough money so my mother didn't have to work so hard. The Magnetic Knights signed me from the regional team about a year ago, along with a high enough pay raise that my mother doesn't have to work anymore."

"Real-life rags-to-riches story, huh?" Garth commented. There was no sarcasm in his tone; he sounded more impressed than anything.

"If you want to call it that." Rokk shrugged. "Being a Magnoball player helps me make enough money for my mother and my brother to live comfortably, and I enjoy it. _That _is why I play. I didn't want nor ask for the fame that comes with it, and I hate it when people define me by how famous I am, and lump me in with other famous people who may or may not be complete asses."

Garth snickered at that. Imra frowned at him, but Rokk merely looked wry.

"Garth, it's your turn," said Imra. Garth exhaled.

"My story's not as spectacular as Mr. Magnoball's," he began. "I had a normal childhood. Like all Winathians, I farmed – my parents owned a plot of land and we did okay for ourselves. Last year me and my siblings took a daytrip to the nearby planet Korbal, just for some fun."

"Let me guess," said Rokk. "You didn't ask permission."

Garth flapped a hand. "It was Mekt's idea."

"Who?"

"My elder brother." Garth sounded impatient. "Look, do you want to hear this story or not?"

"Fine, fine, go on."

"We snuck out in our parents' travel shuttle. Our intention was just to have a picnic on Korbal and be back before our parents got home. Unfortunately, the fuel cells died and we were stranded."

"Are you summarizing a story or telling a saga?" Rokk wanted to know.

"Well, if someone would stop _interrupting_…"

"Rokk, just let him finish. Garth, go on."

"A-hem. So, our fuel cells died," continued Garth, effusively getting into the flow of his story. "Ayla – my twin sister – and I were panicking by this point, but Mekt –"

"Was rational and kept his head?" Rokk asked wryly.

"Was _less _panicky," Garth stressed. Rokk rolled his eyes. "Now, Korbal is a planet inhabited by lightning beasts, so Mekt came up with the idea to recharge the ship's fuel cells by tricking a lightning beast to fire electricity at it."

Even Imra was looking aghast by now. "You _didn't_," she exclaimed.

Garth smirked. "Oh, yes, we did." He started gesticulating with his hands to illustrate his storytelling; Imra couldn't help but be amused at how much he was enjoying this. It certainly couldn't have been a tale he'd told often, if at all. "We both agreed that Ayla shouldn't try it, so we made her stay a safe distance away while Mekt and I irritated the lightning beasts."

"Wait," Rokk interjected, "Did this half-baked plan actually work?"

"'Course it did," Garth said proudly. "Mekt and I managed to lead the lightning beasts to the ship, and we got them agitated enough to fire their lightning. However…" Here his voice deepened and became more dramatic. "…we didn't anticipate that _we'_d be caught in the lightning too."

Rokk snorted. "Typical."

Ignoring him, Garth went on, "According to Ayla, Mekt and I were both electroshocked unconscious, but the fuel cells _were_ charged, so she got us both into the shuttle and piloted us back home."

"That's how you got your powers?" Imra asked. Garth nodded.

"When Mekt and I woke up, we discovered – after a massive scolding from both our parents – that we were now immune to any form of electricity and later we found that we could even control it. Mekt – control freak that he is," Garth muttered the latter part under his breath before continuing as normal, "– was able to master the lightning pretty quickly, but for some reason I couldn't. Ayla suggested that I come to Earth to find someone to help me learn control, which is why I'm here. I _know _it's dangerous that I can't fully control the lightning," he directed meaningfully at Rokk, "but I'm working on it. I may be rash and reckless and hotheaded, but I _am _aware of what could happen if I can't get it under control."

Rokk nodded. "So you've had your powers only a year?"

"That does explain why he isn't able to control the lightning," Imra put in. "But for someone who's only had a year with no formal training, his skill is pretty impressive."

"Yeah, I've noticed he usually only electrocutes stuff unintentionally when he's angry," Rokk conceded.

Garth looked pleased.

"I still can't believe you willingly aggravated a Korbal lightning beast," Rokk said then. "Those creatures are _deadly _– how are you still alive after that stunt?" He sounded both incredulous and admiring of the Ranzz brothers' hazardous feat. Reckless though it might have been, Rokk had to admit that it took a stupendous amount of bravery to attempt it.

"I have no idea," Garth confessed. "But I'm really glad I am." He hesitated, glancing at Imra before turning back to Rokk. "But I do have to respect you for making it to where you are after all the hardship in your life. That is really…I mean, it's pretty incredible. Obviously, you're nothing like – _ahem_…" He appeared to realize from Rokk's and Imra's curious expressions that he was about to divulge more than he wanted to, and he quickly amended, "What I meant to say is, I was clearly too hasty in my assumptions about you, and for that I apologize."

Rokk nodded obligingly. "Apology accepted. I also apologize for my own assumptions about _you_. I probably was a bit too wrapped up in myself, earlier."

"Yes, you were," Garth concurred at once, causing Rokk to frown at him. "Hey, water under the bridge now, right?" He clapped a hand on Rokk's shoulder and Rokk flinched, half-expecting to be shocked. Garth huffed in annoyance. "Oh, relax, would you? My control isn't _that _nonexistent."

"Even so," said Rokk as he carefully picked Garth's hand from his shoulder, "I'd rather not take any chances just yet."

Garth snorted. "Apparently, being pompous is just part of your character."

"Says the boy with 'reckless' as his middle name."

Imra sighed. They were already back to quarrelling, though at least their barbs lacked the genuine hostility of their earlier arguments. This wasn't so much animosity as it was banter – albeit rather acerbic banter. Rokk and Garth were, after all, two very different characters, and each had their own pride. At least it appeared that she would be able to take them out without having to babysit them constantly.

_Although, _thought Imra as the two boys continued to make increasingly loud slights about each other's personality, _if they keep this up I might want to kill them myself._

* * *

**_A/A: _**

**_1\. So now you know a little bit more about Diamond Earth Rokk and Garth. Imra will be less forthcoming about her history because she is by nature a rather guarded person. There will be hints, though - how you interpret them is up to you._**

**_2\. By now you guys should be noticing the medieval theme of the chapter titles. I did this intentionally - sort of to indicate the timeless quality of the subject matter - you know, 'cause this is in the 30th century but the titles use medieval terms._**

**_3\. As I said above, tomorrow's chapter will be full of plot, and you should start to see then where this story is going to go._**


	7. The Codex

_**A/N: Thanks to **leathman **and **sgsupersoda **for reviewing. By the way, in case it isn't clear, Ayla was not hit by the lightning beasts, so she doesn't have lightning powers. **  
_

_**As promised, a plot-heavy chapter for today.**_

* * *

**Chapter VII: The Codex**

_28 October 2998_

The Botanic Gardens had been closed for the day after the events of the morning, so Rokk, Garth, and Imra had to sneak in via a small side gate after the last Science Police had vacated the area. A tiny voltage of electricity from Garth's finger overrode the security lock, and Rokk magnetically manipulated the gate open so they wouldn't leave fingerprints (not that it was likely the Sci-Pol would have any reason to check this gate, but there was no sense in taking such a risk when it was so easily avoided). The trio cautiously made their way to the site of the Magnoball game.

The signs of the earlier turmoil were abundant, with broken twigs, trampled flowers, and disturbed earth everywhere. Here and there, scorch marks from the lasers seared the grass, charred the barks of trees, and marred the paved pathways. Nevertheless, anything dropped by the people who had been here – earrings, blood, scraps of clothing, and the like – had already been removed, and the Magnoball pitch had been packed up and taken away, leaving the field bare and empty once more.

"I'm going to see if I can pick up any lingering psychic trace," said Imra. "You two look around, see if you can find anything." She strolled towards the grass field and positioned herself at the approximate center of where the Magnoball pitch had been. Rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and placed both hands to her head in concentration.

"What are we supposed to find?" Rokk wondered while Imra began searching telepathically. "The Science Police cleared out everything."

Garth rolled his eyes. "Come on, you pessimist. Let's check out where that laser machine was."

"But it's not there anymore," Rokk protested as Garth pulled him along.

"Grife, you _are _dense, aren't you? If the guy who shot at you really did tamper with the machine, he may have left something there."

"Or she," Rokk added.

"Whatever. Come _on_."

The two boys tramped across the path to reach the nearby clump of bushes. It was obvious where the laser machine had stood, as it had flattened the grass beneath it.

"You search the bushes, I'll search the grass," Garth offered.

Rokk nodded, and the two of them set to work. Garth got down on his hands and knees and combed through the grass, searching for anything the shooter might have dropped; Rokk moved systematically along the row of bushes, rustling through the leaves, applying a light magnetic field to pick up any potential metal bits. After about ten minutes of searching, Imra came up to them, her eyes still glowing pink.

"Any luck?" Garth asked her, watching curiously as she moved her head slightly to track psychic trails he couldn't feel. After a moment she sighed and let her hands drop, and the glow in her eyes faded.

"I can recognize the shooter's mental signature, so I'd know him if I met him, but I can't track where he went." She sounded disappointed.

"Hold on, I've found something!" Rokk called. He had moved farther away and was bending over a large rose bush about six meters away from where Garth and Imra were. They hurried over to see what he was plucking from one of the leaves.

It was a small, ragged fragment of paper – actual, proper, made-from-tree-bark paper, the kind that hadn't been in common use since the rise of e-paper and datapads in the late 22nd century. Paper had been revived as the primary medium for transcribing information when the Great Crisis of the 23rd century set technological progress back by centuries, but by the 25th century its electronic counterparts had truly and completely taken over again. Traditional paper was still made by a select few companies, but it was now a highly exclusive niche market consisting mainly of historians, archaeologists, and fervent book collectors (though ironically, it was still cheaper than e-paper). The paper in Rokk's hand was dirty and discolored, with a small hole near the middle from where it had stuck on a thorn. It looked like a corner from a larger page, as the cramped, untidy writing scrawled all over it was broken at the ragged edge.

"Here's something you don't see every day," Rokk remarked as Imra squinted to make out the writing. "Who the heck uses paper anymore?"

"_I _do," said Garth pointedly. Rokk looked amazed.

"Seriously?"

"There's a lot more trees on Winath than ionic plastic," Garth said defensively. "We still use paper more than e-paper."

"Winath sounds really…" Rokk searched for a word that didn't sound insulting. "Rural."

Garth crossed his arms. "Life is simple there. Got a problem with it?"

"None at all," Rokk assured him. "It's just really different from what I'm used to."

Garth snorted. "So what's it say?" he asked Imra.

"I can't decipher the writing," she admitted. "It's too messy. Stylus writing is never this illegible." While writing with a stylus on e-paper was very similar to traditional pen on paper, there was a limit to how untidily one could write without actual ink.

"Here, farm boy, see if you can read it." Rokk thrust the paper at Garth, who scoffed.

"'Course I can read it," he said confidently. "I write like this on a daily basis. Let's see…" He smoothed out as much of the fragment as he could, then focused on reading the scribbled Interlac. "Here's a number 7, then the letters R-O-K…actually, that looks like Rokk's name, right there – 'course, it's broken halfway. Then there's today's date, and a couple of other numbers…and below that is the number 8, followed by the letters C-H-R…actually, I'll just type it out for you." He fished around in his pocket for a datapad, then set to work copying the handwriting into neater digital type. When he was finished, Rokk and Imra crowded around him to read:

**7\. Rokk Kr-  
28.10.2998; 01/011**

**8\. Chr-  
30.10.29-**

**9\. L-  
1.1.-**

"What do you think it means?" asked Garth.

"It looks like a list of some kind," said Rokk. "A list of names and dates."

"Then what's that weird number with the slash?"

"City coordinates," replied Imra. "New Metropolis is divided into 14 boroughs, and each borough is subdivided into zones. The borough we're in, New Troy, is the first borough, and the Botanic Gardens is in zone 11. So the coordinates are 01/011."

"Do the Science Police actually have to memorize all these numbers?" Garth sounded half-horrified, half-incredulous.

"Of course not. It's impossible to memorize thousands of coordinates – all Sci-Pol have a datawatch which automatically tells them which location a set of coordinates refers to."

"Okay, so this is a list of names, dates, and places," Rokk interjected to get them back on track. He caught Garth's eye. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Garth frowned. "A hit list? Really?"

"It probably is something like that, seeing as the date and location of the Magnoball game is right under Rokk's name," Imra pointed out.

"So whoever this guy is, there's at least nine people he wants to kill?" Garth was puzzled. "What for?"

"More importantly, it looks like he's going to strike again in two days," said Rokk, pointing to the partial date under the number 8 name.

"Yes, but who's his victim?" Imra wondered. "All we have are the letters C-H-R. There could be millions of different people with names beginning with those three letters."

"We should take this to the Science Police," Rokk said seriously. Garth scoffed at the idea, and Imra shook her head.

"They wouldn't believe us," she said. "All we have is this piece of paper and our own suspicions. And even if we could find someone to humor us, NMPD just has too much on their plate right now."

"In other words, we're on our own," Garth supplied.

"So what now?" Rokk questioned. "How are we going to warn this C-H-R person?"

"We can't," Garth said bluntly. "It's impossible for us to try to find this guy – or girl – our best bet is to try to find the shooter."

"Garth's right," Imra agreed. She plucked the scrap of paper from his hand.

"What are you doing?" asked Garth.

"Objects usually retain psychic echoes of the person they belong to. Since this list was obviously important to our shooter, I may be able to trace him."

Rokk looked thoughtful. "Isn't that more like psychometry? I didn't know Titanian telepaths could do that."

"Not many can." Leaving Garth and Rokk to absorb that, Imra closed her fingers around the piece of paper and concentrated.

It was quite some time before Imra came out of her telepathic trance. Rokk waited patiently enough, but Garth started fidgeting before even a minute had passed. He tapped his feet, twiddled his thumbs, and kept turning his head until Rokk, exasperated, pulled him to one side.

"Can't you ever stay still?" he demanded.

"I don't like waiting," Garth said plaintively.

Rokk sighed. "Okay, let's give you something to do, then – let's work on your lightning."

"What, now?"

"We do have the time," Rokk pointed out.

"True," Garth conceded. "All right, so how do you want to go about this?"

Rokk looked thoughtful. "When is your control the weakest?"

"When I get mad or worried."

"What about other times?"

Garth took a moment to think about that. "No, other times I'm pretty much in control."

"Show me."

Garth raised his eyebrow, but Rokk's eyes silently dared him; so Garth simply shrugged and, with an impish grin, shot a volt of electricity at the ground mere inches away from Rokk, who cursed and lunged to the side. He glared at Garth as smoke curled from the burnt grass.

"You asked," Garth said innocently.

"I didn't mean for you to nearly kill me!"

"Hey, what I did to get you out of here this morning was much riskier than that, and you're fine, right?"

"What do you mean?" Rokk demanded. "What did you do?!"

"Are you gonna help me or just yell at me?" Garth inquired. "Because if it's the second one I'll just learn from Imra."

Rokk clamped down his irritation and inhaled deeply. "Fine," he said, a little tartly. In a calmer voice, he continued, "What does it feel like when your control lapses?"

"It tingles," Garth replied. "I mean, it always sort of tingles when I release lightning, but when I'm not in control it tingles more, like a lot of pins and needles in my hands…and the only way to ease the tingling is to let the lightning loose."

"Do you consciously think about the lightning when you use it on purpose?"

"Yeah."

"Do you also think about it when you get angry or scared?"

"Um, no…I'm too busy _being_ angry or scared." Garth's tone made it clear that he thought that should be obvious. Rokk ignored the implied insult to his intelligence.

"So the lightning just sort of comes out when you don't think about it?"

"Yep," Garth confirmed. "Why?"

"Try this." Rokk's hands took on a purple glow as he created a localized magnetic field around them. "Do your fist-crackling thing and see how long you can keep it up."

"How is this supposed to help?" Garth wondered as he obligingly let electricity emanate from his closed hands.

"Practice," answered Rokk. "You said it tingles when you use your lightning, and that you have to think about it to control it properly. My guess is that the longer you make electricity, the more your hands will tingle. If you can keep your focus, you should be able to keep the tingling under control – and from there you should be able to keep the lightning under control."

"Huh," said Garth. "Never thought of it that way." His forearms began to shake slightly with the strain of generating a constant surge of electricity. His breathing became more labored. "It sure feels like you're right." The voltage around his hands jumped and increased as his control began to slip. Garth winced as he felt the familiar pins-and-needles in his fingers intensify. "Uh-oh," he commented, just before he lost control and the lightning burst from his hands.

Rokk was quick to cloak himself in a magnetic field to prevent from getting electrocuted, but the bush next to him wasn't so lucky. He sighed as he observed the newly smoldering, crispy brown leaves. Garth looked sheepish.

"Well, practice makes perfect," Rokk allowed. "Though you might want to practice somewhere without flammable materials."

Garth rolled his eyes, but stopped when he noticed Imra coming towards them. "Hey," he greeted. "How'd it go?"

"There still wasn't enough psychic resonance to get a lock on our shooter – but I _did _manage to get something else." Imra showed them a holographic screen from her datapad; the headline on it was from an edition of the _Daily Planets_, New Metropolis' leading news company even after the extinction of the newspaper industry and over 1,000 years in business. The _Planets' _longevity when all its rivals had long since gone out of business was due in part to the legacy of Superman and Lois Lane (Loretta Lane was the company's current star reporter, and it was her byline on this particular article) – but its continued prosperity also owed much to the astute decision to make the expensive, but ultimately profitable, move to e-paper publications before any other newspaper even dared to entertain the idea. The plural _S _had been added to the company's name after the founding of the United Planets in the twenty-ninth century.

The headline Imra wanted them to see proclaimed the murder of the city's former mayor, Frank Berkowitz, who had been shot dead in western New Troy by an unknown assassin while giving an interview about his successor's current controversial policies.

"What controversial policies?" Garth wanted to know.

Imra explained that for the past month, Mayor Christina Fleming had been pushing to increase taxes in order to fund a new tourism program to boost New Metropolis' flagging economy. The city's finances weren't yet in dire straits, but with the exception of several premier corporations, profits had been declining for the past two years or so. Fleming had jumped at the chance to invite the Magnetic Knights to tour New Metropolis in the hopes of attracting Magnoball fans to the city. Needless to say, there was strong opposition to the mayor's tax proposal, but she also had a fair number of supporters among the wealthier citizens whose businesses would benefit from increased tourism. However, a financial fair play activist group had suggested that perhaps Fleming – who was not a very popular mayor – had more sinister reasons for her proposed tax reform.

"Interesting…" Garth commented.

"Berkowitz was killed three days ago," Imra told the boys. "The case is still ongoing."

"The report says he was the sixth in a series of high-profile murders in the past two weeks," Rokk noted, reading from the screen.

"Yes. The other victims were Anthony Gallo, Alexis Luthor, Jason McKinney, Sebastian Stagg, and Gwendolyn Tracy. None of the murders have been solved."

"Serial killer?" Garth guessed.

"NMPD suspects, but they aren't certain. Loretta Lane, on the other hand," Imra added, "seems to be convinced that it is. She's said as much in most of her articles covering the murders."

"Did the victims have anything in common?" Rokk asked.

"Yes," Imra affirmed. "They were all famous, or rich, or both. Anthony Gallo was the owner of the Utopia Casino, the most famous casino in New Metropolis; Alexis Luthor was the CEO of Lexcorp. Jason McKinney was the star of the Metropolis Meteors Moopsball team, Sebastian Stagg was the last heir of the Stagg family, and Gwen Tracy was one of the leading actresses in New Metropolis."

"What's the connection to today's shooting?"

"My hunch is that there _is _a serial killer – someone who's targeting the rich and famous – and you were supposed to be the seventh victim," said Imra. "The other six people were probably the names on the list before yours."

"You mentioned that the current mayor wants to raise taxes." The slight crease in Garth's brow indicated that he was thinking hard.

"Yes," Imra concurred. "What about it?"

"Well, I'd bet that an assassin who's going after rich people wouldn't be happy about that idea."

"Probably not," Rokk agreed. "Where are you going with this?"

Garth shook his head at Rokk's obliviousness. "You really need to start paying attention to things," he chided. "The current mayor's name is Christina Fleming, right? Guess what three letters that starts with." He pointed at the transcript of the handwritten list from earlier.

"C-H-R," Imra realized with a gasp as Rokk's eyes widened. "He's going to kill the mayor."

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. The Great Crisis is something the animated series of LoSH referred a lot to, even if (to my knowledge) there was nothing to suggest it in the comics.**_

_**2\. Frank Berkowitz was an actual mayor of Metropolis during Superman's era. There was also another mayor named Fleming, though his/her first name was unknown.**_

_**3\. Did anyone catch the reference to a certain Marvel character?**_

_**4\. Who here watches CW's The Flash? The last episode was all kinds of awesome.**_

_**5\. Just to warn y'all, I may not be able to update for the next few days - but the next chapter should be posted by Saturday at the latest. I think.**_


	8. A Crusade Against Injustice

_**A/N: What do you know? I found a way to update today! Thanks to **The Violet Rose **and **leathman **for their reviews on last chapter.**_

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own anything. Except Merriweather - Merriweather's mine.**_  
_

* * *

**Chapter VIII: A Crusade against Injustice**

_30 October 2998_

Mayor Christina Fleming stepped out of her limo and was instantly mobbed by a horde of reporters and photographers. Fleming, always concerned about public image, was happy to pander to the press, even more so today because she wanted to keep the public happy. A happy public would be more likely to support the tax reforms she was trying to push through the city council, and more accepting of the speech she was set to make today regarding the new bill. So Fleming assumed a gracious smile as she wove her way through the paparazzi, answering as many questions as possible with as much poise and reassurance she could muster and posing attractively for several photographs.

Today was the last chance Fleming had to influence the opinions of council members and citizens alike before the tax bill was put to a vote tomorrow. She knew that her strongest detractors believed she was increasing taxes to fund corruption in her government, and that was making her job much more difficult. Fleming had her faults – the primary one being that she was considered too 'pretty' and soft to govern a city – and some of her methods might not be satisfactory, but she was trying her best to keep New Metropolis great. What she needed to do today was convince the public of that.

Accordingly, she had prepared as thoroughly as she could for this day. Already a striking dark blonde and hazel-eyed beauty, Fleming had spruced herself up even more with a tailored teal business suit and black court shoes. Her long hair had been clipped up in a smart ponytail, and she'd chosen simple, understated jewelry to project the image of a woman the middle class could relate to. As she ascended the podium and began to speak, she was careful to keep her face open and pleasant as she enthused about the benefits the new tourism program would have for the city. She ensured too, that her voice reflected her genuine concern and understanding for the plight of the lower-income families, as she pointed out that the tax would not be very much increased and that in the long-term this was a sounder financial idea than several options the trade unions had been suggesting.

She had just started to explain that they would be able to scale back the taxes once increased tourism revenue began coming in when her bodyguard gave an alarmed hiss.

It was the last thing she ever heard.

Amid the startled shouts of shock and horror, Christina Fleming toppled headfirst from the podium, the air already beginning to fill with the acrid odor of burning cerebral matter rising from the laser wound in her forehead.

* * *

"I still can't believe the Science Police wouldn't listen to us," Garth was complaining as he poured milk into his bowl of cereal. Rokk was standing by the electronic, smokeless stove, spooning his scrambled eggs onto his toast; Imra was already sitting at the kitchen table with her simple breakfast of a raisin muffin and a latte. "Seriously, what are they – total morons?"

"Garth," Imra reproved, though there was a hint of resignation in her tone – Garth had long since proved that he was strongly and vocally opinionated about the Science Police.

True to form, Garth was not dissuaded from his rant. "Well, who the sprock ignores a warning of an _assassination attempt_ against the _mayor_? We had some pretty reasonable evidence, too."

"Most of it was speculation," Rokk pointed out as he poured his morning fruit juice. "Rather compelling speculation, true – but speculation nonetheless."

"Still!" Garth continued to fume. "We gave them a solid tip on an ongoing_ serial murder case_, and they _still _wouldn't listen! How many times…I mean, honestly! Just because we're teenagers doesn't mean we're idiots!" Warning sparkles began to play about the metal spoon he was holding.

"Garth!" Rokk said sharply, as the sparkles grew into small threads of jagged electricity. Garth looked down at the spoon that was beginning to act as a conductor, and with effort managed to rein in the lightning, but he still looked rather heated.

"Well, at least you managed to pull it in that time." Rokk dropped the magnetic shield he'd been holding around the nearest electrical appliances, just in case.

"I need to work on my focus," Garth admitted. He'd been practicing his control over his powers the way Rokk had suggested, by sustaining a constant electrical charge for as long as possible – but though unintended incidents had markedly decreased, he still had to work to restrain the lightning when he was angry.

"What is it with you and Sci-Pol?" Imra wondered.

Garth huffed and didn't answer for a long moment, before he reluctantly said, "They put Mekt in jail on bogus charges."

"What?" exclaimed Rokk, almost choking on his juice.

"Yeah, you heard me. The so-called well-organized galactic police force imprisoned my brother for something he didn't do."

"Didn't he have a trial?" asked Imra. "If he was innocent there should have been evidence to prove it."

Garth scoffed bitterly. "Oh, no, there wasn't a trial. The alleged wronged party was a wealthy socialite who _insisted _that Mekt was the one who stole her diamond necklace and _demanded _that firm action be taken against him or she would file a lawsuit against the Science Police. Sci-Pol were under so much pressure they decided Mekt must be guilty. He never stood a chance."

An uncomfortable silence followed Garth's tale, broken only when Imra sincerely offered, "I'm sorry, Garth."

"Me too," Rokk added. "I guess this is why you don't like the Science Police?"

"I'm not their biggest fan, it's true, but generally I don't really have a problem with them," admitted Garth. "I know not all of them are like the ones who arrested Mekt. But times like these when they refuse to listen – well, that's when I get mad, because I remember how _those _imbeciles didn't listen when we protested Mekt's innocence."

"We can make it right," Imra assured him impulsively. "My father knows the Chairperson of Sci-Pol Amarta. After this whole serial killer business is over I'll lodge a report with him." She sounded absolutely determined to fix things, much like she had when she had first suggested investigating together.

Garth exhaled. "Thanks, Imra, but there's no point."

"Of course there is!" Imra exclaimed. "It might take some time, but I'm certain we could get your brother out."

"Mekt's already out. He engineered his own escape a couple of months back." Garth shook his head, recalling his brother's last angry communique before he'd vanished from Sci-Pol radar. "He wasn't the same person."

"What happened to him?" Rokk was almost afraid to ask.

"Probably running a smuggling ring by now." At Rokk's startled expression, Garth explained, "Before he went off the grid, he commed me and told me he was going to make his own way in the galaxy. He couldn't come back to Winath – they'd track him down in minutes – so he decided to go traveling on his own. He was hopping mad about his jail term, too – said that if Sci-Pol were going to believe he was a thief no matter what he did, he might as well actually _be _a thief. That's the last I heard from him. I have no idea where he is now."

"Damn," Rokk uttered with feeling. Imra looked as though she agreed.

"Well, anyway," said Garth, brusquely steering the conversation back to current matters, "do you suppose the mayor's security took our warning seriously?" After Chief Norg had shooed the three of them out of NMPD HQ the day before (though not before taking Rokk off the missing persons list and ordering him to contact his anxious teammates, something which had completely slipped Rokk's mind) Imra had contacted the mayor's office directly to leave an anonymous tip.

"Guess we'll find out," said Imra, activating the projector hanging from one corner of the ceiling with a telepathic command; the news screen unfurled in front of the projector instantly, turned to CWTV, the leading news channel for events occurring within New Metropolis. The house was full of such Titanian-made equipment; Garth supposed it was marginally more convenient than asking Merriweather out loud to operate everything. Thinking about Merriweather reminded Garth about a question he'd wanted to ask Imra.

"Hey, Imra, how come we haven't heard anything from Merriweather?"

"What?"

"Well, when you weren't in the house, he wouldn't shut up. He kept adding in his own two cents while Rokk and I were talking. But I never hear him talk when you're around."

"Oh, he's programmed not to speak if Mother or I are in the room, unless we address him directly. There are a few exceptions, of course – such as when he needs to alert us about something – but otherwise he's generally pretty quiet around us. Was he very irritating?" she inquired.

"Just a little," Rokk admitted. "I didn't know AI's could be sarcastic."

"Merriweather has his own personality," Imra conceded. "Merriweather," she said to the AI, "please treat Garth and Rokk the same way you treat me."

**_"Very well." _**The electronic tone gave the impression of a sigh.

Imra winked at the two boys and turned to watch the news. CWTV was currently broadcasting live coverage of Mayor Fleming's speech on the front steps of City Hall.

"She has more bodyguards than normal," Imra noted. "That's good – our call made an impression."

"At least they're being smarter than the Science Police," Garth snarked.

The trio watched as Fleming continued her impassioned speech in favor of the tax reform, speaking of her vision for a revived New Metropolis.

"You know, I can sort of see where she's coming from," Rokk remarked. "I mean, she could have gone about it better and I can definitely see the reason why so many people are opposing the tax bill, but it seems to me that she genuinely wants to help the city."

"She's a bit spineless, isn't she?" Garth commented.

"Yes, I think so too," Imra agreed. "Mayor Berkowitz was a much stronger character – he was quite popular during his tenure."

"From the news article it sounded like he was a very fervent political and social activist," said Rokk. "How come he stepped down as mayor?"

"And how did Fleming get voted in?" Garth added.

Imra shrugged. "One of the oddities of life, I suppose. There was a big upheaval during the elections two years ago, and many suspect that there were some political shenanigans going on behind the scenes to help Fleming beat out Berkowitz for the position."

"What, like bribery?" Garth frowned when Imra nodded. "But who would've wanted Fleming to be mayor so badly? She's so…not leadership material."

"Maybe someone wanted her as a puppet," Rokk suggested, drawing stares from the other two. "If we're going by the government conspiracy theory, she would be easy to control."

"Maybe," Imra allowed. "We're not investigating that, though," she reminded them.

"We should review the timeline after this," Rokk said. Garth and Imra nodded their agreement.

Since discovering the 'hit list' in the Botanic Gardens, they had undertaken quite a bit of research into the six murders so far and used their findings to draw up a comprehensive timeline of the case, complete with thorough profiles of all the victims in an attempt to find a common link (besides the fact that they were all rich or famous). They were hoping that this compilation of information would help them crack the case, or at least provide them with sufficient evidence to convince the Science Police of their claims.

None of them was expecting it when the laser beam took out Mayor Fleming in one swift stroke. All three of them jumped in shock – Imra gasped, Rokk swore, and Garth sparked – and then watched in morbid fascination as the cameras panned wide to deliver a more extensive view of the subsequent flood of activity.

"We should have done more," Imra murmured, drawing her knees up holding them close to her chest.

"We did the best we could have done under the circumstances," Rokk disagreed. "We told the Science Police – we tipped off Fleming's bodyguards. It's not our fault the killer got through anyway."

"No." Imra shook her head. "We could have done more." She seemed unable to tear her eyes from the grisly close-up shot of the laser hole in the center of Fleming's forehead.

Garth wordlessly used his little finger to direct a small but potent stream of electricity at the projector to remove the news screen. For once, neither Rokk nor Imra reprimanded him. Though Garth had encountered a similar worldview-altering event before, it was the first time either Rokk or Imra had been exposed to the harsh reality that their best was sometimes not enough; but all three were shaken by the violent evidence that their little investigation had now taken on a grave importance. With NMPD not believing them, they were the only people who knew there was a shooter loose in the city with intent to kill more people (though Garth thought that if they ignored _this_, they had to be both blind and foolish). It was a sobering thought. When they began their investigation they'd been vaguely aware, somewhere in the back of their minds, that it would eventually lead them to an assassin – but today was the first time they actually registered with full import that they had to catch the murderer to prevent more deaths. It was a burden of responsibility that fell heavily on their young shoulders, despite the fact that Imra had been preparing for it for the past three years, that Rokk was the main breadwinner for his family, and that Garth had probably been the only one out of their trio with an inkling of what they were really in for.

But above and beyond the jolting dose of reality they'd received, the sense of injustice (some left over from Garth's story about Mekt's wrongful imprisonment) rankled keenly; and as the three of them met each other's gazes, a silent agreement passed between them – a resolution to see this through to the end and to save the next victims even if they had to do it by themselves.

"Maybe Sci-Pol will listen to us now," Garth proposed, though he didn't sound too hopeful.

"I don't care if they don't," Imra said decisively. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. You two with me?"

"Of course," Garth replied instantly.

"Definitely," Rokk responded equally as quickly.

They looked at each other meaningfully, now fully aware of what they had committed themselves to. Then Rokk smiled suddenly.

"Fighting injustice is becoming sort of a theme with us, isn't it?" he observed with some pride.

"Injustice is rampant in United Planets," Garth declared. "If you ask me there should be more people like us."

"Maybe we should find them." Rokk was becoming more animated as all of a sudden his ambition took off in a new direction. "We seem to work well together – we could form a team."

Garth's sky blue eyes lit up. "Now there's an idea."

"An idea that'll have to wait," Imra interjected. "We have to catch this killer first. We can decide what we want to do after that."

"All right," Rokk assented. "Let's get to work."

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. CWTV stands for Citywide Television.**_

_**2\. Each star system has a Chairperson in charge of all the Science Police stationed within that system. Winath is also known as Amarta in the comics, so I named its star system accordingly.**_

_**3\. I definitely will not be updating tomorrow, but you should see Chapter 9 the day after that.**_


	9. Pledge to Allegiance

_**A/N: Update time! Thanks to **leathman **for reviewing last chapter.**  
_

* * *

**Chapter IX: Pledge to Allegiance**

_30 October 2998_

"We need to figure out who the next victim is." Garth thoughtfully examined the screens around him.

They'd set up operations in the living room, forming a large ring of holoscreens suspended in mid-air which plainly displayed all the information they had accumulated for easy reference. They had managed to amass quite a bit of data in the last two days. A meticulously detailed 3D rendering of the original paper fragment from the Botanic Gardens shimmered beside a large screen which was entirely devoted to the details of each murder, listed in the order they had occurred. Imra had managed to gain access to the case files using her Sci-Pol cadet authorization code, with a claim that it was for 'criminology research', so a tap on each name would reveal a smaller screen of data the Sci-Pol had gathered in their investigation of the homicide. Other holoscreens were full of the murder victims' photographs and biographies; any connections they had managed to establish between them were typed out in different color codes on a separate screen. Yet another holoscreen cross-referenced the victims' movements and activities from as far back as approximately one week before the first murder.

"All we have is an L." Rokk sighed, studying the aforementioned letter on the digital recreation of the torn hit list for the hundredth time. Imra had already updated all their files with the details of Fleming's murder, so their version of the killer's list now read:

**1\. Anthony Gallo  
16.10.2998; 01/035**

**2\. Alexis Luthor  
20.10.2998; 01/003**

**3\. Jason McKinney  
22.10.2998; 01/007**

**4\. Sebastian Stagg  
23.10.2998; 01/022**

**5\. Gwendolyn Tracy  
24.10.2998; 01/020**

**6\. Frank Berkowitz  
25.10.2998; 01/018**

**7\. Rokk Krinn  
28.10.2998; 01/011**

**8\. Christina Fleming  
30.10.2998; 01/001**

**9\. L-  
1.-**

Extrapolating from the killer's average murder rate and noticing the tiny period next to the 1 on the ninth date, Rokk had filled in the date of the next murder: **1.11.2998**, the day after tomorrow. And after some profiling based on logical deductions and visible patterns, the three of them together had established a set of conditions to help them narrow down the search for the next victim; that is, they would be rich or famous – likely both – and would be living or at least working in New Troy, as none of the murders had occurred in any other borough. Moreover, the killer had struck every one of his victims down during public events featuring them, so they had also decided to further narrow their search to celebrities partaking in events on November the 1st.

"I'm running a search on the New Troy census and cross-referencing any L people I get with our criteria," Garth spoke up as lines of text scrolled down his work screen faster than the eye could follow. "It's gonna take a while."

"Rokk, have you called your team yet?" Imra inquired.

Rokk cringed. "Nass, I forgot. I got so involved with what we were doing…"

Garth snickered. "You'd better go call them now before they decide you've gone and died."

Without another word, Rokk spun on his heel and hurried out, making his way up the stairs to the guest room Imra had given him and Garth to share. The walls were a soft blue color and the two twin beds on opposite sides of the square room had identical white bedspreads. Rokk's bed was neatly made, but Garth's was a bit crumpled because he'd haphazardly thrown his half-open knapsack onto the bedspread after digging out his datapads. Rokk had no belongings with him here besides his Magnoball uniform, but Imra had made some clothes for him with her 3D printer and loaned him a communicator. Rokk and Garth repaid her for her hospitality by doing most of the cleanup for whatever activities the three of them engaged in.

Rokk sat on his bed so that his back was against the wall, then keyed in Hercule Herdoni's familiar number from memory. The comscreen flashed into existence, and Herdoni's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw who it was.

_"What the sprock – Rokk?!" _His astounded shout brought several other Magnetic Knights running, and they all crowded around the screen in equal states of shock, jostling each other for a better view.

_"Holy sprocking nass, you're alive!" _Dar Frol exclaimed.

_"Are you okay? Where have you been?" _Dyrk Magz demanded.

_"Why didn't you call earlier?" _Herdoni took over again, bellowing the question at Rokk. _"We've all been worried _sick _about you!"_

Rokk winced. "I'm really sorry," he apologized contritely. "I'm perfectly fine, I promise – I've just been so distracted the past two days that I completely forgot about calling."

_"What the sprocking hell is so damn distracting that you couldn't call?!" _Herdoni had a tendency to yell and cuss when he was anxious, and it manifested now. _"This team already lost one captain – we certainly don't need to lose another!"_

"You haven't lost me, Hercule," Rokk assured him hastily. "And I'm really, really sorry I didn't call earlier."

_"You'd better have a damn good explanation –"_

_"Herdoni," _Jaxok Kreel interrupted, _"Stop yelling and let Rokk explain what happened."_

Herdoni huffed and crossed his arms, still scowling fiercely, but Rokk recognized it as a signal to tell his story. So he briefly summed up for them the two days since the laser flurry in the Botanic Gardens, explaining that Imra and Garth had rescued him from the chaos and that he was now working with them to discover who was behind the attack.

_"Sci-Pol said the laser machine was the cause of all the lasers," _said Arvad Cryz. _"Collazo's been in discussion with the team's lawyers to sue the company that provided the machine."_

"Tell him to hold off," said Rokk. "It might not have been their fault. We think the shooter probably tampered with the machine to cover his tracks."

_"Why aren't Sci-Pol investigating this?" _Kreel wanted to know.

"Erm…they're overstretched at the moment." It was the closest explanation he could give without going into the details.

_ "Krinn." _Herdoni had reverted to addressing him by his surname. _"How deep in are you?"_

Rokk met his eyes. "Till the killer is caught. Garth and Imra and I have made a decision to see this through to the end. We can't just walk away from this case when we could be saving lives."

Herdoni let out a breath. _"This is so _you_," _he remarked, half in exasperation, half in resignation. _"What are we supposed to tell Collazo? We're supposed to be leaving for Neo Gotham in five days. He already canceled the rest of our tour in New Metropolis because you were MIA."_

Rokk hesitated. He had resolved to do whatever he could to prevent more murders, but he also had a responsibility to his team. Herdoni was right to ask just how deep he was going in this. Where did his desire to save lives end and his duty to his team begin?

_"Krinn?" _Magz inquired.

Rokk sighed. "I'll keep in touch."

Herdoni started to object. _"Krinn –"_

"Look, I'm free for the next five days since the New Metropolis tour was canceled, right? So for the next five days I can do this with Garth and Imra. Hopefully we've wrapped up the case by then. If we haven't, then I'll make a decision."

_"Fair enough," _Frol agreed. He nudged Kreel, who was the vice-captain, meaningfully. The Knights' second-in-command nodded.

_"All right, we'll inform Collazo that you're conducting 'personal business'," _he consented. _"We're all doing our own thing while in New Metropolis anyway – as long as he knows you're okay, he won't have a problem with it if you rejoin us the day we leave for Neo Gotham."_

"Thank you."

Herdoni sighed. _"I really hope you know what your priorities are."_

Rokk nodded. "Me too."

* * *

"Hey, Imra, how many zones are in every borough?"

Imra briefly looked up from editing their info on Fleming to answer Garth. "It depends how large the borough is, but it's usually a few hundred."

"Uh-huh. And how many zones does New Troy have?"

Imra quickly referred to the Sci-Pol-issued datawatch on her left wrist. "327."

"Terrific," Garth deadpanned, glancing back at his ongoing search. "We're going to end up with half a million names."

Imra came to look over his shoulder at the ever-growing list of L names scrolling on his screen. "Try narrowing the search to zones 000 – 039."

"Wouldn't we miss something important if we narrow it just to those few?" Garth asked dubiously.

"I don't think so. Look." Imra slid a screen showing a map of New Troy in front of them. The locations of the murders had been marked in red dots, and Imra swiftly drew smooth lines to connect all the dots to a center point. "Most criminals only work within a certain area – in this case, our shooter seems to be killing only within a radius of about 30 kilometers, which I assume is the largest convenient distance for him to travel."

"He's choosing his murder locations based on _convenience_?" Garth said disbelievingly.

"If you were going to commit a murder, wouldn't you want to be able to get there easily?" Imra pointed out. "New Metropolis is a big city; New Troy is the most well-known borough, and many people here don't travel even to the other boroughs."

"Fair enough," Garth conceded, entering the new search parameters. "I still think we're going to end up with a hell of a lot of names."

Imra smiled wryly. "Probably, but it's easier to sieve through 1,000 people than 10,000." She sighed then as she remembered another person she'd been trying to find. Garth's expression softened.

"You're worried about Lyle, aren't you?" Imra still hadn't heard a peep from her missing friend, despite trying to comm him at least once a day.

"Yes," Imra admitted. "It's been three days. I'm pretty sure he's not…" She cleared her throat, blinking rapidly to dispel the uncomfortable direction her thoughts had taken. "I mean, all the victims from the Botanic Gardens have been identified."

"Why not use telepathy to find him?"

"I've tried that. I haven't been able to sense him. He could be out of my range, or he could just happen to be invisible whenever I do it."

Garth frowned. "Why would being invisible prevent you from sensing him telepathically?"

Imra explained that Lyle's serum apparently cloaked even his mental waves when he was invisible. Garth looked impressed.

"He came up with that himself? At _fourteen_?" He grinned. "That's pretty awesome."

"He could at least call." Imra sounded disgruntled.

"I'm sure he's fine," Garth said comfortingly. "He sounds like he can take care of himself."

Garth's confidence was so bracing that Imra smiled slightly. "You're right," she agreed. "He was probably called away on a mission, and that's why he hasn't called. I'll still worry until I hear from him, though."

"I guessed as much." Garth's tone was wry. "Wait, mission?"

"Lyle works for Earthgov Intelligence," Imra explained.

Garth was stunned. "He's _fourteen_!"

Imra shrugged. "He's a certified genius," she said, as if that explained everything.

"I wish he were here, then. We could probably use his help on this case."

Rokk re-entered the living room just then. "How's it going?" he inquired.

Garth spared a fleeting glance at his screen. "Still searching."

"How many names so far?" Imra asked.

"Actually, fewer than I expected," Garth admitted. "Just eleven so far. How'd your team react to your return from the dead?" he asked Rokk jokingly.

Rokk, however, was far from a joking mood as he flung himself onto the sofa. "I may have to make a choice soon."

"What do you mean?" questioned Imra.

Rokk sighed and gestured at the array of screens floating in the room. "What we're doing is a good thing, right? I mean, trying to save lives and catch a killer?"

"'Course it is," Garth said immediately. "Why?"

"Here's the thing," said Rokk, "I feel a real sense of purpose doing this, but I also have a responsibility to my team. I want to see this through, but I'll probably have to leave with the Knights when they go to Neo Gotham, whether or not we've wrapped up this case."

"When is that?" questioned Imra.

"Sunday."

"Don't worry about it, Rokk," Garth said unexpectedly. "We've still got five days. I'm sure we'll get the guy before then."

"And if we don't? Are you two okay to continue the investigation by yourself?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Imra said soothingly. "Don't worry, Rokk. We understand you have a duty to your team. This was never meant to be a permanent arrangement, anyway." She caught Garth's eye, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment. All three of them knew that they would soon be going their separate ways. Rokk would go back to the Magnetic Knights, Imra would graduate to the Science Police (if she was still allowed to after meddling with an ongoing investigation), and Garth would continue doing…whatever it was he was planning to do, he wasn't sure.

Garth's screen beeped once, indicating that the search was complete. The moment broken, they all crowded round it to see the final list of some twenty or so L names that satisfied the search parameters.

"How are we going to decide which one's the next victim?" Garth wondered.

"Profiling," Imra replied. "We need to compare which of these twenty people is the most similar to the established victim profile."

"That's not very foolproof, is it?" Rokk observed.

"It's good enough. Psychology counts for a lot when you're profiling criminals. Of course," Imra added as she started typing rapidly on a new screen, "it helps if you also have a super-advanced AI finding the patterns for you."

"Merriweather?" Garth guessed.

**_"Yes?" _**the AI answered.

"No, Merriweather's programming doesn't include things like this," said Imra.

**_"I don't see why not," _**Merriweather interjected. **_"My random-access memory could easily support such a system."_**

"You're in charge of the house, Merriweather, not police work."

**_"Do you know how insulting it is to see you using other AI's within my sphere of influence when I am perfectly capable of incorporating their software into my programming?"_**

"Is he always like this?" Garth wondered. This was the first time he'd heard Merriweather actually argue; it both amused and annoyed him.

"Only when he feels offended. Merriweather, hush, I'm working."

Rokk chose that moment to redirect the conversation. "Even with an AI detecting the patterns, you'd still need to input very specific parameters."

"Rokk, she's a _telepath_," Garth pointed out. "If anyone knows psychology, it's her."

Rokk conceded the point, and they both watched as Imra added characteristic upon characteristic of their victim profile.

"Is this the system Sci-Pol use?" Rokk asked curiously.

"No. Earthgov Intelligence uses it. Lyle came up with it a couple of years ago. It's what got him recruited into the agency."

"Genius, all right," Garth commented.

Imra finished inputting all the data and then fed Garth's list of names to the AI. Within a few seconds, the program had spat out the name of the next victim.

**LORETTA LANE – 97.83% match**

"Figures, really," Garth said after a pause. "I mean, she's famous, a legacy of Superman himself, probably pretty well-off – _and _she's done coverage on most of the murders."

"We can't go through the Science Police this time," declared Rokk. "We tried that with Mayor Fleming, and look where that got us."

"So what do you propose we do?" Imra inquired.

"Simple. We'll tell her ourselves."

* * *

**_A/A:_**

**_1._**_leathman **said two chapters ago that victim 9's initials would be L.L. Clever, leath, clever.**_

_**2\. We should be back to regular daily updates now, though at a different time than some of you might be used to. Still, it's a chapter a day, so why would you complain? ;)**_


	10. In Troubled Times

_**A/N: Thanks to **leathman **for his review. How are the rest of you guys enjoying the story?**  
_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in this chapter except Loretta Lane. There are a few Easter eggs, but I don't own those either.**

* * *

**Chapter X: In Troubled Times**

_31 October 2998_

Putting away the expense reports he'd just finished reviewing, Lon Norg decided to take a short break before tackling the early information his investigators had managed to obtain in the ongoing case of Mayor Fleming's murder. In a long line of high-profile homicides, Fleming's was the most conspicuous both because it was the most recent and because she had been the most powerful person in New Metropolis. The latter was a mere technicality – Lon knew as well as anyone in his department that Fleming had been a figurehead and someone else had been pulling the strings from within her cabinet. The probable corruption within New Metropolis' government was just another problem on his already congested list of issues – among them the recent murders, NMPD's manpower shortage, the impending arrival of R.J. Brande, the press' apparent vendetta against the Science Police, and his still-missing son – all of which seemed to demand his immediate attention. Lon hadn't had a free day since he was appointed Chief of NMPD, and he was convinced that he wouldn't until the time when he finally decided to step down.

Yet for all the difficulties that came with his post, Lon knew he wouldn't retire until he had done all he could to solve them. His total commitment to his job and to keeping New Metropolis safe had resulted in his having little time for Lyle, so Lyle was predominantly raised by their good friends the Foccarts after Lon's wife died when Lyle was three. The Foccarts had since moved away from New Metropolis, but their departure happened to coincide with Lon's increasing interaction with Titanian Ambassador Sydne Ardeen. The sheer amount of business Lon and Sydne conducted with each other during the earlier part of the decade had resulted in them becoming friends, and their children also struck up a close camaraderie during Imra's brief visits to Earth between her psychic training on Titan. Lon knew both Sydne and Imra very well by now, and Lyle and Imra viewed each other as siblings.

Lon knew from several unanswered calls that he would be unlikely to hear from Lyle anytime soon – especially if, as he suspected, his son was on another mission for Earthgov – but he wondered if he ought to call and check up on what Imra was doing. He hadn't heard a peep from her ever since she'd come to his office with Rokk Krinn and another boy to insist that the Botanic Gardens incident wasn't an accident, and that Mayor Fleming was the target of a serial killer. For all he knew she was investigating it on her own – she was certainly willful enough to do it, and she'd clearly done some digging to come up with the theory she'd presented to him.

In all fairness, Imra had turned out to be right about Mayor Fleming, and Lon was beginning to suspect that she was right about the Botanic Gardens and the serial killer as well. Consequently, when he heard that Fleming had been murdered, he ordered Homicide to compile a list of similarities between the various murders in the last two weeks to see if the evidence was conclusive enough to prove that they were committed by the same person; he was expecting them to report back with their findings by today.

Of course, if Imra was right and it really _was _a serial killer, Lon hadn't the slightest clue how he would manage his department then, what with the mess the city's government was in at the moment and R.J. Brande due to arrive the day after tomorrow.

Just as Lon was about to call Imra, Captain Kimball Zendak, head of the Homicide Division, rapped on the proofed (bulletproof, laserproof, soundproof, etc.) glass surrounding his office. Lon waved him in at once; the captain had an expression on his face that meant bad news was to follow, and Lon had a feeling he knew what it was. He groaned audibly as Zendak entered the room.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Up to our necks," Zendak agreed solemnly, handing over the e-paper report that bore the indomitable proof of said trouble. "The evidence is conclusive; we have a serial killer on our hands."

"A serial killer who's targeting New Metropolis' rich and famous," Lon noted, only skimming the report to confirm what he already knew. He sighed. "I can already imagine what Loretta Lane will come up with this time."

"How did we miss this?" Zendak wondered.

Lon's response was snippy. "We're understaffed; what do you expect? People expect us to be freaking miracle workers but Sci-Pol Sol won't send us the necessary reinforcements. It's as if they still think we have Superman around to help us do our jobs."

Zendak blinked. "Are you saying we need capes?" Lon Norg had earned his position with his strong conviction that ordinary police could do just as much as the famed heroes of old to protect the city.

"_No_," Lon denied vehemently. "What we _do _need is for the higher-ups to realize that New Metropolis is a very large city which requires a very large police force, and for them to stop assigning all the East Coast's reinforcements to Neo-Gotham. For God's sake, half the recruits going to Neo-Gotham graduated from _our _Academy."

"We'll make sure to mention that in our next annual review to Sci-Pol Sol," said Zendak dryly. "In the meantime, I need to know what your orders are for my division."

Lon rubbed his temples. "Revamp the investigation as a serial homicide case. Assemble a single task force to take charge and reassign all those who've been working the cases separately." The only good thing about the existence of the serial killer was that it eased the manpower shortage somewhat, as it allowed NMPD to commit just one group to solving it, instead of having multiple teams trying to solve different murders.

"Yes, sir." Zendak left to carry out his orders, and Lon turned back to the file on the Fleming murder.

* * *

Loretta Lane mulled over a recent article of hers, critically analyzing the language and style in her mind as she made her way to her closet to select her wardrobe for tomorrow's ceremony. By the time she switched on the image simulator and started rifling through holograms of what she would look like in certain clothes, she had started thinking about what she would say as she received her Pulitzer Prize.

The journalism award started by Joseph Pulitzer in 1917 was still one of the most distinguished accolades a writer could receive, even after more than a millennium. The awarding of the Pulitzer had been shifted from April to November in the 26th century for a reason that no one remembered now, but its eminence in the reporting world had not diminished in the slightest. The Pulitzers had a long and proud history; Loretta's venerable ancestor, Lois Lane, had received an astonishing total of seven Pulitzer Prizes in her distinguished career, and her husband Clark Kent had pulled in four of the coveted awards himself – and in addition to their individual medals, Clark and Lois shared two Pulitzers jointly for articles they'd written together. Of course, Clark was more remembered now for being Superman, but Loretta identified far more closely with her reporting heritage than her superhero ancestry.

Tomorrow she would receive her very first Pulitzer, and, if Loretta had anything to do with it, it would be the first of many. It was an important point in her career and she was determined to look her best.

The buzz of her apartment doorbell interrupted the speech she was constructing in her head, and Loretta abandoned her consideration of a rather fetching periwinkle pantsuit to check who it was. She was instantly wary when a glance at the visitor footage revealed three strangers – she was very much aware that her status as Superman's descendant and as a reporter had made her her fair share of enemies – but when a closer inspection showed that one of the visitors was missing Magnetic Knight captain Rokk Krinn, her reporter's instincts took over. If she could secure an interview with him the resulting article could be her next Pulitzer.

With a tap of her fingers she unlocked the door for them. "Hello," she said brightly. "How can I help you?" She was somewhat startled to realize that she also recognized the only girl in the group, though not by name – she knew her to be Ambassador Sydne Ardeen's daughter. "Well," said Loretta, recovering her composure very quickly. "What brings a galactic sports star and an ambassador's daughter to my doorstep?"

The last member of the group, a redhead with a faint lightning-shaped scar across his right eye, looked marginally put out that he was not acknowledged until Loretta glanced at him and asked, "Who's your friend?"

"This is Garth Ranzz and Imra Ardeen," said Rokk, taking charge, "and I'm Rokk Krinn."

Loretta already knew this, of course, but she nodded politely. "Welcome to my apartment. What can I do for you?"

"May we come in?" Imra requested. "We have something important to tell you."

Loretta graciously opened the door wider to admit them entry. "Can I get you anything?" she asked as they settled themselves on the couch. "Tea, soda, coffee?"

"No, thanks," said Garth. "We're good."

"Okay." Curiosity piqued, Loretta sat down in the armchair across from them. "What's this about?"

"You may find this hard to believe, Ms. Lane," began Rokk, "but we have reason to believe that someone means to kill you at the Pulitzer ceremony tomorrow."

Loretta showed no surprise at this – in fact, the only sign that she had heard what Rokk said was the arch of her eyebrow. "On the contrary, I actually find that quite easy to believe," she admitted. "But how do you know this?"

Her three visitors launched into a summary of the investigation they'd been carrying out and how they had determined that she was the next victim.

"We decided to warn you in person after we were unable to save Mayor Fleming with an anonymous tip," Imra finished.

"Sci-Pol inefficiency strikes again," Loretta remarked.

"Indeed," Garth agreed. Loretta clearly shared his disdain for the Science Police.

"They're not that bad," Imra protested.

"Oh, I know that," Loretta conceded. "The Science Police do quite a good job for the most part – but you must understand, growing up with tales of Superman and the Justice League, it's sometimes hard for me to reconcile with the idea that a conventional police force is enough to protect the community."

"It must be fascinating, having private stories of the Age of Heroes passed down within your family for generations." Rokk sounded enthralled.

"Sometimes." Loretta's tone was wry. "Sometimes it's just a pain."

"How so?" Garth queried.

"My ancestors were two of the greatest people to ever walk the Earth, and they associated with dozens of other equally great people. As their descendant, everyone expects me to live up to that. It can be a heavy burden to bear that legacy when people tend to measure everything I do against the deeds of Superman and Lois Lane – or any of their other heroic offspring."

Imra looked thoughtful. "I never thought of it that way."

Loretta smiled. "Few people do." She cleared her throat. "Now, to get back on topic, you say all the murders are the work of a serial killer?"

Rokk nodded. "We think it's someone with a grudge against the rich and the famous."

Loretta nodded. "Yes, I thought so. All fairness to NMPD, though – they thought so too, but until Mayor Fleming was killed they didn't have enough evidence to say so with any conviction."

"Wait, you mean they're actually investigating this thing as a serial murder case now?" Garth sat up straight.

Loretta nodded. "Yes, they are. So," she said, "What do you propose I do? To stay alive, I mean." She looked at them expectantly.

"Well, this is just a suggestion," answered Garth, "but I'd strongly advise _not _going to the ceremony tomorrow."

Loretta's brows drew together. "But it's the most important event in my career to date."

"More important than your life?" Rokk asked softly.

Loretta sighed. "Look, I know I said it's a pain to try to live up to my legacy, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. Both Lois Lane and Clark Kent won the Pulitzer several times, and since any Kryptonian abilities in my bloodline were suppressed long ago, tomorrow is the closest I'll get to accomplishing what they did."

"We understand," said Imra. "But the Pulitzer will still be yours even if you don't accept it in public, and to be very frank, the best way to honor your legacy is to preserve your life so you can continue to live it."

"Yeah, I know." Loretta exhaled. "I suppose I could always feign illness and stay home."

"That might be a good idea," Rokk agreed. "All the murders have occurred at public events – you should be safe if you stay at home."

"Let's hope." Loretta eyed Rokk speculatively. "Would I be correct in assuming that you were the intended victim in the fiasco in the Botanic Gardens?"

Rokk inclined his head. "Guilty as charged. I was supposed to be victim number seven, but thanks to Imra and Garth here, I survived."

"Sounds like there's an interesting story there," Loretta remarked casually. "Mind if I ask some questions?" She was definitely in reporter mode now, highly reminiscent of her several-times-great grandmother.

Rokk smiled, obviously aware that she was angling for a story. "Maybe another time," he said, as he, Imra, and Garth rose as one. "We have an investigation to continue."

Loretta nodded in acquiescence. She knew when not to push. Some things were more important than a story. "I hope you catch the killer," she said as she showed them out of her apartment. "Who knows?" She winked conspiratorially. "Maybe you'll start a new crime-fighting team. Lord knows this city could use a new generation of capes."

"Another Justice League, you mean?" Garth surmised. "You really think the 30th century needs it?"

Loretta's violet eyes shone with a time long past as she replied, "The universe will always need heroes."

And with that, she closed the door.

* * *

_**A/A: **_

_**1\. Kimball Zendak is an actual Sci-Pol captain from the comics.**_


	11. The Enemy's Gambit

_**A/N: Again, thanks to **leathman **for faithfully reviewing. **  
_

* * *

**Chapter XI: The Enemy's Gambit**

_1 November 2998_

"All right, how are we doing this?"

They were having breakfast in Imra's kitchen again, and Garth's question came as he set his bowl of cereal and milk – his staple breakfast – down on the table next to Imra. Rokk was sitting on the opposite side, directly across from the two of them, with a few holoscreens lying flat on the table beside his half-finished protein shake. He swiped some data across one of the screens.

"The Pulitzer ceremony starts at 1600, and it's being held at the _Daily Planets_."

"It's open to the public to attend," Imra put in as she stirred her yogurt in its cup. "We should have no problems getting in."

"Yeah, and neither will the killer," noted Garth. "You're sure you'll be able to recognize him?"

Imra nodded confidently. "Definitely. If we go earlier I can assimilate the mental signatures of everyone there, so I don't have to search through everybody's psyches to find him when he shows up."

"Rokk will need a disguise," said Garth.

Rokk nodded in acknowledgment. "I have a holoring I can use. I brought it so I could explore New Metropolis in my free time without being hounded by the press. All the Knights have one." He had recovered his belongings from the hotel the Magnetic Knights were staying the previous night.

"Everything all right with your team?" Imra asked. Rokk replied in the affirmative.

"So we're going to go to the Pulitzer event and keep our eyes open for anyone carrying a laser blaster aimed at the stage," Garth summed up. "What are we going to do when we find the guy?"

Rokk began to answer, but he was interrupted by Merriweather's sardonic voice issuing from the speaker on the wall.

**_"Imra, your mother is on the main comm. I will project the screen in the kitchen."_**

Imra's eyes grew wide. "Under the table, go!" she hissed at Rokk and Garth; they blinked in surprise until their brains caught up, at which point they scrambled hurriedly out of sight of the Ambassador on the comscreen that had just appeared over the dining table.

_"Good morning, Imra," _Sydne Ardeen greeted her daughter with a smile.

"Good morning, Mother," Imra responded, inwardly thankful that her mother could not read her mind over the communication line and learn about the two boys crouched under the table. "How are Father and Jancel?"

_"They're well, but we've been hearing some disturbing news from New Metropolis, and I wanted to check on you to make sure you're all right."_

"I'm fine, Mother," Imra assured her.

_"Lon informed me that you and Lyle were at the Botanic Gardens during the laser accident," _Sydne said with a frown.

"You know Lyle's a big fan of the Magnetic Knights. He roped me into driving him there to watch the game, and we got caught up in the drama."

_"But you both made it out fine?" _The concern was evident in her mother's voice.

Imra hesitated. "I got grazed by a laser," she admitted, "but it was a minor burn and it's completely healed now."

_"And Lyle?"_

"Well, neither Chief Norg nor I have heard from him since that day, but I think he's probably with EI. I hope."

Sydne nodded. _"Yes, that's probably it." _She exhaled. _"I wish you'd come to Titan with me, Imra. It's a holiday week – you wouldn't have missed any classes. Your father misses you."_

Imra cringed involuntarily. "You know why I didn't want to come."

_"Yes, I know." _Sydne sounded sad.

"It's all right, Mother – I have lots to do here, anyway," Imra said lightly. "I'll visit Father some other time."

_"Do you want me to come back early?" _Imra's surprise was plain on her face. _"I'm worried, Imra," _Sydne admitted. _"With the recent murders – especially Mayor Fleming's – New Troy is becoming dangerous. I don't feel comfortable about the fact that you're alone."_

"Mother, I'm fine," Imra said again. "Really. I can take care of myself – I'm about to graduate from the Academy, after all."

Sydne smiled. _"Yes, I'll certainly be back in time for that. Maybe I'll convince your father to come with me."_

"That would be wonderful!" Imra said with genuine delight.

_"I'll try my best," _Sydne promised. _"I'll be back soon. Be careful, Imra."_

"I always am, Mother. Bye."

"_Bye-bye, Imra." _The screen disappeared as Sydne signed off the comm. Imra huffed in relief as Rokk and Garth crawled out from under the table, shooting her curious glances.

Although both boys looked like they wanted to ask her about the conversation, typically, it was Garth who took the plunge. "What was that about?"

"My mother, checking in on me. She does that."

"I get that." Garth ignored Rokk's warning look for him to desist and plowed on, "Why didn't you want to go to Titan with her?"

Imra sighed. "Let's just say I have my own family problems."

Garth looked like he wanted to question her further, but Rokk's glare finally convinced him to stop prying. Imra either didn't notice or she pretended not to.

"That was close, though," she said. "Saturn knows what my mother would have said if she knew you two were here. Remind me to wipe Merriweather's databanks before she gets back."

**_"I'd rather you didn't," _**the AI said unexpectedly.

"I thought you said he can't talk unless you address him directly," said Garth.

"Well, the restriction programming doesn't seem to be very precise – he seems to be able to speak up whenever someone mentions his name."

**_"It would be extremely dull if I had to be silent _****all_ the time."_**

"Oh, shush." If it were possible for an AI to be sullen, Merriweather somehow projected it despite not saying a word. "Now," said Imra, "where were we?"

"I asked what we were going to do once we found the guy," Garth supplied.

"Oh, right. Well, do we want to be subtle or direct?"

"Maybe subtle?" Rokk suggested. "Try to corner him quietly without disturbing events?"

"Really?" Garth was skeptical. "I was thinking more of a hands-on approach."

"Like what?" asked Rokk. "Pumping him full of lightning?"

"Just enough to knock him out. We'd have no trouble with him after that, I can guarantee it."

"Garth, you don't quite have full control yet. You could kill him."

"Hey!"

"And," Rokk continued, ignoring Garth's indignant objection, "Let's try not to make a scene. We're not the Science Police, after all."

"Thank Nath for that," Garth muttered.

"So you want to be subtle, and you want to be direct." Imra indicated Rokk and Garth in turn. "I suppose the tiebreaker falls to me, then."

"Okay," Rokk conceded.

"I can live with that," Garth agreed. "So what's your vote?"

* * *

He checked his laser blaster before he left his tiny flat, scanning it meticulously for any damage or imperfections. As usual, it was pristine. Once he was satisfied that it was in working order, his eyes traveled to the small framed photograph on the dusty mantelpiece. Most people used e-paper and holographs in this century, but his family had always been able to afford only the most basic necessities, and e-paper was still more expensive than pulp paper. He didn't mind; actual paper and photographs gave him more permanent mementos to cherish with his family, who smiled up at him from the faded photograph.

"Soon," he promised, his voice soft and tender as he gazed at the last remaining keepsake he had of his once-happy family. "It's very close now."

He holstered his blaster on his belt and drew the flap of his coat closely over his waist to hide the bulge. He slipped out of his flat, not bothering to lock the door – he had nothing worth stealing – and made his way to the street. Public transport was free in New Metropolis, if one was willing to endure the crowded transport hubs and vehicles, which he was. He caught a sky train and was lucky enough to find an unoccupied seat near the door, where he sat, silent and watchful, not speaking to anyone. No one bothered him, and he liked it that way.

After several stops, the bland female voice of the sky train's AI announced that they were approaching the _Daily Planets_, and he stood, hands in pockets, ready to exit. As soon as the train pulled to a stop he was gone, breezing out the door as if he'd never been there. He kept his head high and walked boldly into the news building. His coat was plain, but respectable enough, and it covered the more threadbare clothes he wore underneath.

It was easy enough to find the large conference room where the New Metropolis Writers' Association was holding the Pulitzer award ceremony. He had timed his journey carefully so that he would arrive moments before the Pulitzer recipient took the stage to deliver her thank-you speech. His lip curled in disgust at the thought of her. Loretta Lane, another sorry excuse for a human being, leaning on the fame of her legendary ancestors and living off the misery and hardship of others – worse, writing _stories _about others' misfortune and winning _prizes _for it. What was the world coming to?

He was gratified to see that he had timed his arrival perfectly, and he slipped into the back of the room with no one the wiser. His hand fingered the blaster under his coat, and his eyes skimmed the room in anticipation. A frown creased his brow when he did not find his target on his first sweep through. Loretta Lane should have been standing beside the stage, but she was not there. He scanned the room again, more fastidiously this time. He was so focused on his task that it took several seconds for him to register what the NMWA chairperson was saying.

"…regret to inform you that Ms. Lane has taken ill suddenly and will not be able to attend the ceremony…"

He felt an unpleasant jolt of shock. Loretta Lane would not be appearing? How could this have happened?

In his peripheral vision he observed a red-haired youth who did not look like a New Metropolis native coming towards him, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to recall where he'd seen the boy before. The answer came almost instantly – the same redhead had been present in the Botanic Gardens when he shot Rokk Krinn. The boy's presence here could not be a coincidence.

He turned and began unobtrusively inching towards the exit while whispers broke out among the crowd about Loretta's 'illness'. He himself smelled a rat; someone was on to him, and had warned Loretta to stay away. What else could explain a reporter of Loretta's ego failing to appear at the highest moment of her career?

A blonde girl broke away from the main crowd and started approaching him; she was quite subtle about it, but he was watching for it and he noticed it. He noticed, also, when a dark-haired boy in a purple coat left his corner to edge towards him as well.

_They know. _

Without wasting any more time, he ducked out the door and vanished into the corridor.

* * *

"Well, we prevented a murder," Imra said bracingly. It was around 1900, and they were back in her house, in the living room this time. The evening news was playing across the virtual screen on low volume. "Loretta Lane is alive and the proud owner of a Pulitzer Prize."

"Yeah, but we didn't get the killer," said Garth. They'd searched as much of the _Daily Planets _building as they could, and even some of the surrounding streets, but Imra had eventually lost the psychic trace. Whoever the killer was, he was very good at disappearing.

"I think saving a life is more important than catching a criminal," said Rokk.

"True," Garth conceded, "but we need to catch him if we want to save more lives. We've reached the end of the list; we have no idea who his next target is."

"Maybe he doesn't have one?"

"That's not very likely," said Imra. "From what I managed to get from his thoughts, he's not planning on stopping with Loretta. He has one more victim in mind."

"Just one?" Rokk asked.

"One at the moment," Imra qualified. "He may decide to stop there, or he may continue."

"Which brings us back to the same thing," said Garth. "We need to catch him. Question is, how do we do it?"

"Well, for starters, I don't think subtly trying to corner him is going to work," Rokk pointed out. "I could've wrapped the door around him when I saw him today, but since we agreed we didn't want to make a scene…"

"Which, I point out, was _your _suggestion."

"All right, now I'm admitting that it didn't work." Rokk glared at Garth – without much real heat, it must be said. "We'll try it your way the next time we see him."

"If there _is _a next time."

Rokk decided to ignore that.

"Let's just sleep on it," Imra suggested. "It's been a long day. We can try to figure out who the next victim is tomorrow. I'm sure if the three of us put our heads together, we could come up with something."

"Yeah, all right." Garth stood up and stretched. "Dinner?"

"Sounds good," Rokk agreed, rising from his chair as well and offering his hand to Imra. "I'm hungry."

"Merriweather, prep the replicator," Imra instructed as she let Rokk pull her to her feet.

**_"Your wish is my command."_**

* * *

**_A/A:_**

**_1\. No announcements today, except...reviews, please? ;)_**


	12. To Snare a Slayer

_**A/N: Thanks again to **leathman **for reviewing. I do have to wonder, though - what happened to everyone else?**  
_

* * *

**Chapter XII: To Snare a Slayer**

_2 November 2998_

Imra was awoken at 0630 by the gentle ringtone of her personal communicator. She reached out a slender arm and plucked the device from her bedside table, using one finger to answer the call without checking the caller ID. The comscreen opened up, and Imra bolted upright in her bed, fully awake.

"Lyle!"

_"That's my name," _came the cheeky reply.

"Oh, grife…Are you all right? Your dad and I have been so worried. Where are you? What have you been doing?" Her questions spilled thick and fast, releasing the pent-up concern and anxiety of the last few days while her eyes searched the background behind him for clues to his whereabouts.

_"Whoa, whoa." _Lyle held up his hands in surrender. _"One at a time, Imra."_

Imra took a breath and started again with the most important question. "Are you all right?"

_"Never better," _Lyle assured her. _"Before all the hullaballoo in the Botanic Gardens broke out, I saw one guy hiding out near a bunch of bushes. I had a hunch that he was up to something, so I turned invisible and tried to approach him, but I couldn't stop him from shooting at the Knights and I couldn't catch him when all the other lasers started flying. Then I had some trouble turning visible again…" _He caught the look on Imra's face and hastily added, _"It was a minor thing – it hasn't happened since! Although I did have to throw the clothes away – they just wouldn't reappear," _he admitted.

"This is what you get when you inject yourself with an untested serum." Imra was too relieved that he was all right to put more than a gentle rebuke in her tone; Lyle realized this and grinned. "What happened next?"

_"Well, since no one could see me, I had to get out before I got crushed. It took me maybe an hour to work my way back to the visible spectrum again. I would've gone to your place then, but EI called – they knew I'd been in the Gardens and when they heard I'd _seen _the guy, they put me to tracking him."_

"This was one of those missions you couldn't inform anyone about?"

_"Kinda. See, Sci-Pol only just decided that all the murders in the past two weeks are connected, but EI knew very early that there was a serial killer at work. Since my dad's the chief, I wasn't allowed to tell him what I was doing – and technically you're Sci-Pol too, so…"_

Imra frowned. "Why wasn't Sci-Pol allowed to know about Earthgov's suspicions?"

_"We don't hand over information to Sci-Pol until we have all the evidence wrapped in a neat little package. That's the way it works at EI."_

Lyle sounded a tad defensive, Imra knew better than to press for more detail. Instead she inquired, "Have you called your dad?"

_"We-ell…"_

She rolled her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling there's more to this call than you checking in?"

_"Because there is," _Lyle admitted frankly. _"I know who the killer's next target is."_

Imra had started to relax somewhat, but her spine snapped back into a ramrod position at this. "Who?" she asked before she could stop herself.

_"R.J. Brande."_

There was a beat as Imra processed this. "Why tell me?"

Lyle snorted. _"Well, for _some_ reason, Loretta Lane failed to appear at her Pulitzer ceremony yesterday, and that's just not like her, you know?"_

Imra raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

_"I did some digging, and it turns out, she was warned to stay away by – get this – three teenagers." _Lyle's voice had assumed a rather meaningful undertone.

"Okay, so I warned her about the target on her back. It's common courtesy, Lyle."

_"Yeah, but it wasn't just you, was it? You went to see Loretta with _Rokk Krinn _and a Winathian who only arrived in New Metropolis a few days ago." _Lyle was on a roll with his little story by now, so Imra just let him continue. _"Then I found out that someone had sent an anonymous tip to Mayor Fleming's security team warning them about an attempt on her life, and when I traced that back to you as well, I knew you were up to something. So I hacked into Merriweather and asked him to tell me what you'd been doing."_

Imra's eyes narrowed. "I wish you would stop doing that. It's no wonder his programming is all over the place, what with you poking around his databanks every once in a while."

_"I'm a spy, Imra – hacking stuff is my job."_

"And the point you're trying to make is?"

_"The point," _said Lyle, _"is that the private investigation you've been running is more than what NMPD have been able to piece together even though they have more resources, more manpower, and more evidence. My dad's been complaining that they're overstretched and overloaded, which isn't their fault – but I figured if I told you who the next victim is, you three would be more likely to be able to do something about it."_

"When is it happening?"

_"Tomorrow, at the charity event at the Superman Museum. Brande's arriving this afternoon from Mars."_

Imra did some quick thinking. Sci-Pol would definitely put in a presence at the event, but they still didn't know who they were looking for and their killer was slippery enough to escape even those who knew him by sight. Earthgov Intelligence would prefer not to get involved because doing so would require them to step out of the shadows where they worked best. Lyle was right; the three of them had the best chance of catching the killer and ending the serial murders tomorrow. It didn't take long for her to make up her mind – and really, she'd made the decision the minute Lyle told her that Brande was a victim.

"We're on it."

* * *

When Imra knocked on the door of the guest room, she was not surprised to find Rokk and Garth already awake and talking quietly, as was their wont. Of the three of them, Imra was the one who normally awoke the latest; Rokk was by nature an early riser, and years of helping out on his family's farm had trained Garth to wake at the crack of dawn each day, so the two of them usually spent some time chatting while waiting for Imra to wake up and have breakfast with them, which was normally around 0800. The result of these morning conversations was a rapidly developing brotherly bond between the two boys, one that belied the fact that they had started off on most definitely the wrong foot.

"You're up early," Rokk observed as Imra opened the door.

"I finally heard from Lyle," was her answer.

Garth was immediately interested. "And?"

"As I suspected, he's on a mission for Earthgov Intelligence. They've been tracking the murders, same as we have – and Lyle called to tell me who the next victim is."

Both boys straightened in anticipation. "Who is it?" Rokk asked.

"R.J. Brande."

Rokk frowned. "As in the third-richest man in the galaxy, R.J. Brande?"

"Yes."

Garth whistled. "He definitely fits the victim profile."

"He's hosting a charity event at the Superman Museum tomorrow evening as part of a galactic fundraising campaign for underprivileged children," Imra informed them. "That's where the killer is planning to get him."

"Hold on – Lyle told you this, right?" Rokk sounded cautious. "Does that mean Earthgov actually wanted us to know this? Like, do they _expect _us to do something?"

"We were going to do it anyway," Imra pointed out. "But I don't think Lyle gave me the information in an official capacity. Reading between what he said, I think he made the decision to tell us on his own." She frowned. "In fact, I'm not even sure whether EI actually knows we're investigating this as well, or whether Lyle took it upon himself to find out what we're doing without informing his superiors."

"Isn't that insubordinance?" asked Garth. "He could get fired for that."

Imra shrugged helplessly. "Lyle makes his own decisions. Whatever his relationship with Earthgov is, it's not our business – he knows what he's doing. At least, I hope he does." She shook her head. "What _is _our business now is R.J. Brande and tomorrow's charity event. The way things stand, the three of us are the only ones who can prevent Brande's murder."

"It's also probably our last chance to nab the killer," Garth added. "Rokk has to leave the day after tomorrow."

Rokk started slightly. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

Garth clucked in mock disapproval. "What a wonderful captain you are."

"Shut up, Garth."

"If we want to be sure to catch the killer this time, we'll need to plan," said Imra.

"Plan what?" Garth questioned. "Aren't we taking the direct approach this time?"

"We still need a plan," Rokk pointed out. "Going the direct route is all good and well, but we aren't going to get anywhere if we run about like headless chickens. We need a strategy."

"You're starting to sound like this is a Magnoball game."

"The same principle applies."

"Okay, I'll buy that," Garth allowed. He glanced at Imra. "Breakfast first, then plan?"

* * *

It didn't take long for them to finish eating; by 0800 they were settled in the living room with their assortment of holoscreens, ready to plan.

"I think we should stay outside the museum," Rokk said, mulling over a 3D street plan of the Superman Museum.

"Why outside?" asked Garth.

"That way we can see whoever goes in; we'll know the minute the killer shows up."

"We can't just hang around outside like a bunch of morons – people will wonder what we're doing," Garth argued.

"Not if we camouflage ourselves." Imra sounded like she had an idea. "Rokk, you said all the Knights have holorings, right?"

"Yes."

"If you can borrow two from them for Garth and me, I can modify the perception filter to make the holo-projection reflect our surroundings instead of creating an avatar."

"That would make us invisible, right?" Garth queried.

"Not completely – there'd still be a light shimmer around us because the perception filter can only do so much – but it's enough. And we wouldn't risk spooking the killer if he sees us."

"I think I can get two of my teammates to lend us their rings," Rokk agreed.

Garth had a thoughtful frown on his face. "Okay, so we use the rings to camouflage ourselves and wait outside for the killer; then what?"

"I think I know what we can do, but I'll need some time to work it out properly."

"All right." Imra swept all the holoscreens over to Rokk, a clear invitation for him to do as he pleased. "I have something I want to do with Garth, so we'll leave you to it."

"What are we doing?" the Winathian asked, obligingly rising as Imra stood.

"I need to help you gain full control over your lightning. The museum will be packed with people – you'll need to be able to use your powers without accidentally hitting someone."

"I've been getting better since Rokk helped," he protested.

"I know you have. But we don't want to risk you losing control for whatever reason – you could easily kill someone."

Garth scowled. "I wish you two would stop saying that – I _know _that already. But I think I have enough control now to _not _kill someone even if I accidentally hit them." He looked slightly wounded that she had so little faith in him. Imra's expression became contrite.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she apologized. "What I meant was, I can help you to master the lightning so you won't accidentally hit anyone even with a low voltage bolt."

"Can we do that in two days?" Garth sounded dubious.

"I think you can manage it," Imra said with a smile. "Rokk, we'll be back later. Garth, come with me."

Rokk and Garth exchanged glances before the latter shrugged and followed Imra up the stairs.

"Don't tell me you have a special electrically-insulated room or something," he said half-jokingly.

"Not quite." Imra led him up to the small third storey, which housed only one room. Garth frowned, puzzled.

"Why are we using your room?" he asked as Imra opened the door.

"Because it's the closest we'll get to insulated in this house."

"What?" Garth took a few moments to look around; both he and Rokk had discovered early into their stay that Imra's bedroom was on the highest floor of the house (whereas the two other doors on the second floor led to Sydne's room and guest room number two), but he'd never been in it before. As he'd suspected, given Imra's apparent fondness for the color, the walls were painted a light pink, with one accent wall that was a darker rose shade. The eiderdown on her queen size bed was white with pink roses, and most of her furniture was white and made out of wood, rather than the more modern metal or synthetic materials that were the default in the 30th century.

"Nice rustic sense," he complimented. "Reminds me of Winath."

Imra shrugged. "I prefer cozy to modern."

"So why your room?" Garth asked again.

"It's insulated against psychic energies," Imra explained, much to Garth's confusion. "You're not the only one who has trouble controlling your powers."

Garth had a blank look on his face. "What…_you_?" he said in surprise. "But your control's amazing."

"When I'm awake it is," Imra conceded. "Not so much when I'm asleep. It doesn't happen much anymore, but I do sometimes still unintentionally pick up on the thoughts of people in the house – or project my own nightmares."

Garth frowned, not sure he liked where this was going. "What nightmares?"

"Nothing for you to worry about. Like I said, it doesn't happen often now. But the insulation will keep you from accidentally setting my room on fire, to a certain extent." She smiled wryly.

Garth looked wary. "What, exactly, am I going to be doing?"

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

After a moment's hesitation, Garth squeezed his eyelids shut. "Now what?"

Instead of responding, Imra placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and gently guided him forward a few steps before turning him. "Think about something that makes you angry."

"Um…are you sure that's a good idea?" Garth questioned, eyes still closed. "Even if I don't set your room on fire, I could definitely scorch some furniture."

"You're facing an empty wall. If you can't control the lightning, you can direct it at the wall. You won't do any damage, don't worry."

"Okay…" Garth sounded dubious, but he nonetheless dredged up the memory of the vapid, conceited, airheaded lady who had arrogantly asserted Mekt's 'guilt' and angrily demanded his arrest. His blood pressure rose just thinking about his brother's unfair imprisonment, and he felt his skin begin to tingle with the ever-present lightning.

"That's it," Imra encouraged. "Keep thinking about it until you can't control the lightning anymore."

"And then what?"

"Then I'll teach you how to reassert control."

Garth cracked open an eye. "By that time I'll have already _lost_ control."

"I'll intervene just before you reach that point."

"How will you know when that is?"

"I'll know."

Garth huffed and slid his eye closed again. "All right. I'm trusting you here."

Imra smiled, though Garth couldn't see. "Thank you."

The electricity rippling just above Garth's skin had subsided somewhat as he talked to Imra, so he concentrated on getting angry again, recalling the Science Police knocking on the door of his house on Winath to arrest Mekt; the insipid socialite loudly proclaiming Mekt's wrongdoing to anyone who would listen; the hardheaded insistence of Sci-Pol as they overrode his family's attempts to convince them of Mekt's innocence; the swift sentencing of Mekt to jail by the chief of Winath's Area 3 without trial; his anger when he realized Mekt was going to be imprisoned in Takron Galtos instead of the local jail; listening to Mekt's last message and realizing what Sci-Pol's misconduct had pushed his brother into…

The tingling intensified until it was almost painful, and Garth realized he was about to set loose a bolt of lightning a split-second before he heard Imra's voice in his head.

_~Focus, Garth. Clear your mind.~_

_~Can't.~ _He was shaking with the effort of keeping the lightning in him, having reached the 'point of no return', where he was too angry to be able to calm himself down.

_~Garth…~_

Before Imra could get any further, electricity surged towards her wall. Garth, still surrounded by lightning, opened his eyes and was relieved to find that Imra had been telling the truth – her wall wasn't even scorched. "Nass," he cursed.

"It's okay," said Imra. "Let's try that again. Close your eyes."

Garth sighed, and obediently shut his eyes once more.

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. Yup, more hints about Imra.**_


	13. Under Siege

_**A/N: Welcome back, **The Violet Rose**, and thanks again to you, **leathman**. It's nice to have more than one reviewer again =)**  
_

_**We're getting close to the end now - only a few more chapters to go. There's still time for more cameos and Easter eggs, though, even in this chapter.**_

* * *

**Chapter XIII: Under Siege**

_3 November 2998_

A brown-haired girl popped up on a small comscreen. _"Mr. Brande, Reep's on line 1 for you."_

"Thank you, Luornu."

_"You're welcome." _The small comscreen disappeared momentarily, then rematerialized an instant later, now bearing the image of Brande's young, orange-skinned son. Brande immediately used his fingers to enlarge the comscreen.

_"Hi, Dad."_

"Hello, son. Listen, I'm sorry I didn't come visit like I was supposed to, but I heard about the auction at the Superman Museum, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make it part of my charity drive."

Reep chuckled, his antennae waving. _"Dad, it's okay – I know how much you love the superhero legacy, especially Superman's. Besides, you're coming home for a while after that, right?"_

Brande beamed jovially, obviously pleased that Reep understood his deep-seated fascination with the Age of Heroes. Details of the First Age of Heroes had been lost in the Great Crisis, and few people now even knew it had existed; but the legacy of the Second Age of Heroes was still a stirring inspiration for many in the galaxy. Brande himself had been very taken by the Superman Memorial on his first visit to Earth as a boy, and his love affair with the Age of Heroes had led to an increasing rapture for the planet Earth itself. Thus, when the time came for Brande to make himself a new persona, he unhesitatingly chose to be an Earthling. After suffering a disease that robbed him of his natural Durlan shapeshifting abilities, he'd chosen to remain as a human permanently, and had then moved to Osterkey (a quiet, smallish city located roughly where Columbus, Ohio once was) with his children, legally changing his birth name of Ren Daggle to the name that was now recognized throughout the galaxy.

"Of course, Reep. I should be home by Monday evening. I've already asked Luornu to keep my schedule clear for the next two weeks."

_"Luornu gets all the fun," _Reep complained. _"When am I gonna get to follow you on one of these trips?"_

"Luornu's my secretary, Reep," Brande reminded him. "And you have to attend school."

_"Ugh."_

Brande shook his head at his son's obvious distaste for the idea. Reep attended a public school in Osterkey, but because of his father's enemies in both the political and industrial world, he had adopted the human alias of Remy Brisson. Reep, however, vastly preferred his real name, Reep Brande – a mixture of both his Durlan race and Terran upbringing – and his dislike for school stemmed mostly from the fact that none of his peers could know who he truly was. No one outside the Brande household knew that Brande had any children at all, and Reep had not yet found anyone he and his father deemed trustworthy enough to tell his real identity, with the result that the young Durlan lived a rather sheltered life and could only be himself within the safety of the Brande estate in Orangewood Manor.

"You know why it's necessary, Reep," said Brande.

Reep mumbled discontentedly. _"I know, but why can't I do what Luornu does?"_

"Luornu is quite a bit older than you are, and I never actually adopted her."

Reep snorted. _"You as good as. She's practically your daughter, and you know I think of her as my sister."_

Brande sighed. "Reep, I promise, when you're old enough, we'll talk about discarding the deception," he pledged. "Until then, we need to maintain the charade. I have a lot of enemies, son – dangerous enemies – and I need to keep you and your siblings safe. I don't…" Brande paused, calming his emotions before continuing in a quieter voice, "I don't want you to end up like Liggt."

Reep's face was solemn. _"I miss him too."_

"I know you do, son." Brande cleared his throat. "Where's your brother?"

It hurt Reep more than he would ever say to know that Brande would never be able to ask that about Liggt again. _"Jan's meditating. Want me to call him?"_

"No, don't disturb him. I'll call later." Brande looked at his son, determined to lift the somber moment. "Don't you have schoolwork to do?"

His deliberate question had the intended effect. _"It's Saturday!" _Reep exclaimed in horror.

"Homework still needs to be done, Reep."

_"It's not due till Tuesday. I'll do it on Monday."_

"I'm coming back on Monday, Reep," Brande reminded him. "Wouldn't you rather spend time with me than do homework?"

Reep blinked. _"Yeah, you're right." _He sighed. _"Okay, I'll do it tonight."_

"Attaboy." Brande smiled approvingly at him. A gentle reminder from Luornu about his 1500 meeting appeared in one corner of the large executive screen. "I have to go, Reep – I've a meeting with the manager of the museum about tonight's auction."

_"Okay. Bye, Dad. Love you."_

"I love you, son."

* * *

"Are you two in position?" Rokk inquired over the three-way comm. line.

_"I am," _Imra confirmed.

_"Locked and loaded," _Garth concurred.

_"You know you're not actually carrying any weapons?" _Imra said to him, prompting a scoff from the Winathian.

_"Why would I need to? I _am _a weapon."_

"Not yet you're not," interjected Rokk. "Keep it under wraps, Garth – the auction doesn't start for another half-hour."

_"Don't worry, Rokk – I've got it under control."_

"What exactly did Imra teach you to do yesterday, anyway?" Rokk asked suspiciously. He hadn't been able to figure out why there'd been an awkward silence between the two when he went to get them from Imra's room, though the lesson had clearly been successful – Garth suddenly had total control over his powers. The rather flustered interaction between them after that hadn't lasted long, and they were back to normal now – but neither of them was telling what had transpired to cause it.

And it seemed Garth wasn't about to change that status quo. _"I gotta say, Rokk, I'm really impressed with this plan," _he deflected. _"I didn't think you had such strategy in you."_

Rokk exhaled, knowing he wouldn't be getting an answer to his question anytime soon. "Who do you suppose came up with the Knights' no-sentry formation in the Magnoball Cup final?" he played along.

There was an incredulous pause over the comm. line. _"Are you serious?"_ Garth exclaimed. _"That was _your_ idea?"_

"Of course," Rokk replied smugly. "I'm not the captain for no reason."

_"Rokk Krinn, I believe I misjudged you." _Rokk could tell that Garth was grinning by his tone of voice.

"Yes, I believe you did," he agreed. "Now shut up and keep watch."

_"Aye-aye, captain." _

Rokk was sure if he could see Garth now, the irrepressible redhead would be smirking. However, although Rokk had a clear line of sight to where Garth was lurking near the Superman statue, the holorings Imra had modified were doing their job – all three of them were very well camouflaged, blending so thoroughly into the background that, when coupled with the darkness, they might as well have been invisible. There were both pros and cons to this; no one would be able to see them, true, but being near-invisible came with its own disadvantages.

_"Ouch!" _exclaimed Garth.

_"What did you do?" _demanded Imra's suspicious voice.

_"I stubbed my toe against Superman's foot."_

Imra was less than impressed. _"Really?"_

_"Hey, it's a little hard to avoid bumping into things when I can't see myself move."_

Rokk had to admit, it _was_ slightly disconcerting not to be able to see his hands as he slipped on a pair of vision glasses. On the ground, a limousine pulled up in front of the golden Superman, floating about three inches off the ground as the occupants stepped out. "All right, you two, be quiet. People are starting to arrive. Imra, keep your mind open. Garth, have a look at everyone who approaches the entrance – and for goodness' sake make sure you don't get run over by any cars."

Garth snorted, full of skepticism that any such thing would happen.

The three of them got into mission mode. The plan was simple: the minute either of them spotted their target, they would descend on him together and surround him to block off escape. Rokk was hoping their camouflage would keep them hidden, but he knew that they would probably have to reveal themselves at some point – if it came to a fight and they had to use their powers in the open, there was no way they would be able to escape the notice of the guests attending the auction.

_More fame, _Rokk thought with a sigh.

As more and more people started to arrive for the event, Rokk, Imra, and Garth busied themselves with their respective tasks. Rokk and Imra were both on the rooftops of nearby buildings; Rokk had a respectable view of the front and side entrances to the museum, while Imra was covering the back exits and scanning each arrival's psychic signature. Garth was their ground operative; he hovered near the front entrance behind the Superman statue, ready to spring into action the moment they located the killer – he would be the first to reach him.

"I see the vultures have started to circle," Rokk noted with a glance at where a sizeable crowd of paparazzi had started to cluster around the Superman statue.

_"Yep," _Garth agreed._ "And guess who's here."_

_"Loretta Lane." _Imra sighed. _"I guess it would have been too much to expect her to stay away from something happening _here_, of all places."_

_"You know," _Garth said conversationally, _"I can't decide if she's incredibly stubborn or annoyingly dedicated."_

"Would you keep your voice _down_?" Rokk hissed. "You're the closest to her – she could easily hear you."

_"Nah, she's too busy forming her questions." _Garth's tone changed as a sleek white limousine approached the museum. _"Heads up," _he warned in a low voice. _"Brande's arrived."_

* * *

Brande, dressed in a forest green suit with brown accents, stepped out of his limo and waved jovially to the reporters, who instantly peppered him with questions, ignoring the slender brown-haired girl who climbed out after him, holograph tablet in hand. Well used to the press' badgering, Brande smiled congenially and put up his hands to stem the flow of queries.

"I'll answer just three questions now, because I have to go in to begin the auction," Brande bargained, "but I'd be happy to give you a full press conference after the event."

The reporters seemed amenable to this idea, and Loretta Lane immediately made herself heard. "Mr. Brande, what do you hope to accomplish with your charity campaign?"

"What any true philanthropist hopes for," Brande replied. "To make the galaxy a better place. The funds raised tonight will be donated to the New Metropolis Children's Foundation, to finance renovations for orphanages and improvements of the New Metropolis foster care system."

"The majority of your charity events thus far have been focused on children's needs," another reporter spoke up before Loretta Lane could ask her next question. "Could you tell me why this is?"

Brande smiled gently. "That's easy," he said. "Children are beautiful, innocent souls, who deserve the best that we have to offer. They are the future of our galaxy, and it is my great joy to help them achieve their potential. Last question," he reminded them.

Once again, Loretta Lane came out on top, seizing the third question Brande had allotted for herself. "The auction at the Superman Museum was not originally part of your campaign. Why did you suddenly decide to include it?"

Brande looked straight at her, recognizing her easily. "Ms. Lane, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Brande smiled again. "Well, Ms. Lane, you of all people should know that if anyone would approve of a noble cause like this, it would be Superman. He was quite possibly the greatest man to ever live, a shining example for us all to emulate – I feel certain that he would want the money from the sale of artifacts from his museum to go to improving the lives of the city's children." The billionaire's brown eyes twinkled. "And, admittedly, being a big fan of him myself, I could not pass up the opportunity to host an event at his museum."

Loretta Lane looked thoughtful, but her rival reporters were already chattering again, hoping to convince Brande to answer a few more questions. Brande, however, smiled apologetically and said, "As per our deal, we'll have to bring an end to this for now. If you have more questions, I'll answer them after the auction. Thank you all." He waved once more before disappearing into the museum with his girl aide; like a herd of sheep following their shepherd, the mob of reporters trailed after him.

* * *

_"That was insane," _Garth exclaimed after Loretta Lane nearly brushed by him on her way into the museum. _"I swear, they're like a pack of dogs! I would never be able to deal with that. Hey, Rokk, does the press hound you like that?"_

_"Not quite as bad, but yes, I do have a tough time of it sometimes. Hence the holoring. Imra, how are we doing?" _he inquired.

"Still no trace of the killer," Imra replied. The roads leading to the back exits of the museum were mostly clear, and no one had approached from there. "He's probably intending to slip in through the side once the auction is in full swing."

_"Do either of you know who that girl with Brande was?" _Garth asked curiously. _"She kind of looked like a Carggite."_

"She's Luornu Durgo, Brande's secretary," Imra informed him. "She's been working for him for about a year."

_"How do you know what a Carggite looks like?" _Rokk questioned of Garth.

_"Cargg's just one star system from Winath. We share a long-lasting trade agreement."_

Something fluttered against the back of Imra's mind, and she instinctively focused on it. "Garth, Rokk, he's here."

_"Where?" _Rokk's tone was all business.

"East entrance."

_"I see him," _Garth confirmed, already moving. _"Should I shock him?"_

Before either Rokk or Imra could answer, Garth's yell of pain reverberated over the comm. line.

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. Osterkey and Orangewood Manor are my own creatios...if you can call making up a name a creation. **_

_**2\. Diamond Earth Reep was born and raised on Earth, so I've given him the name Brande instead of Daggle. **_

_**3\. I had to dig pretty deep to find Liggt Daggle (Liggt Brande in this universe); he only existed in Pre-Zero Hour comics, in which he was Reep's twin brother. Pre-Zero Hour Durla was a barbaric planet, and in the case of twins only one could survive to adulthood, so all twins were forced to participate in a duel to the death as a rite of passage. Reep was forced to kill Liggt in their duel, which was what made him leave Durla. **_

_**4\. I'm not sure if I'll be able to update tomorrow - it depends on whether I can get wifi. If I can't, just check in for a few days until you see the new chapter - it won't be posted any later than the weekend.**_


	14. Duel to the Death

_**A/N: Well, thanks to**_ _leathman **for reviewing last chapter.**_

* * *

**Chapter XIV: Duel to the Death**

_3 November 2998_

The problem with being a prodigy was that Sci-Pol promoted you to important ranks – which came with increasingly demanding responsibilities the higher up you went – far more quickly than others. Shvaughn Erin was only 20 years old, but she was already a second lieutenant who was expected to handle major cases – like the accident in the Botanic Gardens and security for R.J. Brande's charity auction. Shvaughn sighed as she observed the auction below from her position on the gallery, scanning for any sign of trouble. All she could see from here were well-dressed socialites and businesspeople, most with a drink in their hands as they made conversation with their neighbors – but there were other Sci-Pol officers guarding the entrances and exits and a few plainclothes members working the room itself.

"Keep your eyes and ears open," Shvaughn instructed the other Science Police; there was a chorus of affirmations from her comlink. Satisfied, Shvaughn returned to watching the room as Brande stepped up to the podium. She didn't truly expect anything to happen here – but with the recent murders and Brande's lofty status, one couldn't be too careful.

"Welcome, everyone, to this charity auction." Brande had a genuine grin on his face and his voice boomed from the microphone. "I am honored to be hosting this event, and pleased to see so many faces. The Superman Musuem has graciously consented to hold this auction to clear out ancient artifacts from the Age of Heroes which they do not wish to keep. I personally think the manager is slightly crazy not to want to hold on to relics from such a wonderful time…" His teasing tone prompted laughter from the crowd. "…but it's a good thing for people like us, who would love to display a piece of such a magnificent part of history in our own homes.

"The funds raised here today will be donated to the New Metropolis Children's Foundation, to help provide a better life for many children in the city. I'm sure Superman himself would approve." There were amicable smiles and nods of agreement. Brande continued, "The manager has informed me that there are over twenty artifacts in the auction, including a signal watch that Superman supposedly gave Jimmy Olsen, a painting that most people believe was given to Superman by Wonder Woman, and even a beautiful crystalline statuette carved from the ice of the mythical Fortress of Solitude. I'll be bidding for that myself," he added with a conspiratorial wink.

"Now remember, this is a charity event, so I hope you'll all give generously. However, the most important thing is that you enjoy yourselves." The guests murmured their hearty approval. Brande grinned. "Why, I'm glad you agree." He raised his champagne flute. "Let the auction begin!"

* * *

Rokk and Imra's reaction to Garth's cry of pain was instant. Rokk roared, "Garth!" and levitated himself to the ground on the flat metal disc he'd set aside for this very purpose, while Imra leapt down using a Sci-Pol Academy-issued grapple gun, a psychic blast already throbbing within her mind.

"Garth, what happened? Report!"Her voice was anxious.

There was nothing but static, and, fearing the worst, the two teenagers rushed to the Superman statue, reaching their target at the same time. Both Rokk and Imra slid off their holorings and became visible, but there was still no sign of Garth.

"Garth, where are you?" Rokk demanded. "Garth!"

Imra looked fearful. "Rokk, you don't think he's…"

"No," Rokk said at once. "No, he's not."

"But how would we –"

"He's not!" Rokk said forcefully. "Garth!" he called again. "Garth, this isn't a time to hide! Imra…" He turned back to her. "Can you find him?"

She sucked in a breath. "I'll try." She closed her eyes and concentrated, but before the tell-tale pink glow appeared a familiar voice reached their ears.

"…stupid, sprocking statue getting in my way…"

Rokk and Imra exchanged a glance, both relieved and exasperated.

"Garth, take off your ring," Rokk ordered.

"Huh? Oh." A second later, Garth appeared in front of them, cradling his right arm with his left.

"What happened?" Rokk demanded.

Garth looked irate. "I tripped on Superman's feet and fell headfirst off the pedestal! I think I might have broken something. OW!" He glared at Imra, who was prodding his injured arm experimentally.

"It's not broken," she said. "It's probably just a sprain."

"Oh, that makes me feel _so _much better."

She gave him a withering look. "How did you trip in the first place?"

"It's not my fault! My legs were invisible!"

"You can still _feel _them, can't you?"

"Yell at him later, Imra," Rokk interjected. "Garth, where did he go?"

"He's inside."

* * *

Those meddling kids were interfering again. He hadn't seen them – they were smart enough to camouflage themselves this time – but he had clearly heard one of them yelp loudly behind him. He hadn't bothered to turn back to see what happened, opting instead to slip into the museum quickly. He wasn't overly concerned about the three teens – he only needed a few minutes to carry out his objective – after that he could go to prison for all he cared, but he _had _to kill R.J. Brande. He'd been waiting for this moment for years.

There was no way he could mingle with the wealthy guests – nothing he owned could pass for the fine clothing they were all wearing – but the auction was in full swing and only a few people paid him any notice as he lingered in the back. After all, people entered the Superman Museum all the time.

His eyes narrowed under his hood as he glimpsed Loretta Lane, and he felt his blood begin to boil at the sight of her typing notes into her handheld holograph tablet. He briefly contemplated taking her out then and there, but that would cause too much of a scene and he would never be able to get to the person he'd actually come for. With a shake of his head, he sidled out of Loretta's line of sight just as she raised her head.

Someone had just purchased a restored photograph of the Justice League's Original Seven, and in the resulting applause he was able to edge towards the side without anyone paying him the slightest bit of attention. He'd worked his way into a pocket of space near the corner of the room by the side of the stage, and he ducked his hand under his coat, fingers clenching around his blaster. In a few more seconds, R.J. Brande would be taking the stage again to introduce the next bidding item, and then he would finally fulfill his revenge.

_Just a little while more…_

* * *

Outside, Rokk, Imra, and Garth were already moving to the east entrance, which led directly into the part of the museum where the auction was taking place.

"Remember, just as we planned," Rokk instructed as they raced around the building. His two partners nodded.

"We have to hurry; he's almost ready to act." Imra's eyes were glowing.

"No rings," Garth said firmly as they reached the door. "I need to be able to see where you are."

"Fine," Rokk conceded curtly.

They paused for the briefest of moments outside the door. Later they would look back on the instant they opened that door as the moment when their lives changed forever, but right now the only thing on their minds was catching a killer.

Garth yanked the door open, ignoring the alarmed shout of the Sci-Pol behind it, and the three of them swept inside. A lot of things happened simultaneously: Imra made Brande duck the same way she'd forced Rokk to the ground in the Botanic Gardens; Rokk used his magnetism to whisk the assassin's weapon from his hands; Garth cut off the Science Police's attempt to restrain them by surrounding them with a contained electrical field; and all around, people screamed and scrambled away from the conflict, while the Sci-Pol among the crowd pulled out their phasers and pointed them at the three teenagers.

"Put your hands in the air!"

"Seriously?" Garth demanded, keeping the electrical barrier intact. "We're trying to _help_."

"It's true, officers," Rokk backed him up, still suspending the killer's blaster. "This is the criminal. He was going to kill Brande."

Imra, meanwhile, was beginning to approach Brande, only to have one Sci-Pol swing his firearm towards her.

"Lower your weapons!" Shvaughn commanded as she swung down from the gallery. "That's a Sci-Pol cadet."

"Lieutenant Erin!" Imra exclaimed in recognition.

"You have five seconds to tell me what the hell is going on here, Ardeen."

Imra opened her mouth to answer, but the assassin chose that moment to shove her into the path of Garth's electric field.

A horrified Garth hastily cut the flow of lightning from his hands, but not before Imra was electrocuted. "Imra!"

Now that Garth's lightning was no longer keeping him trapped, the way was free for the killer to advance on Brande, who was dazedly rising from where Imra had forced him to the floor. In the blink of an eye, the killer whipped out a knife. Shvaughn and two other officers threw themselves at him, but they were not able to reach him before he flung the blade at Brande with a feral snarl. Quick as thought, Rokk pried a metal panel from a display case and hauled it into the knife's trajectory. The blade split through the panel with a harsh screech, stopping just short of Brande's chest as its hilt smacked into the metal sheet.

By this time the Science Police had managed to subdue the kicking and screaming assassin, but Shvaughn had turned her attention to Garth, who was sparkling with electricity, anger plain on his face.

"Hey, Sparky, shut it off," she ordered. When he made no move to comply, she raised her phaser. "Or do I have to put you down?"

Garth clenched his hands into fists. "He hurt her," he hissed, voice trembling with the strain of keeping the electricity from charging out.

"Last I checked, that was _your _electric barrier."

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Garth's fury rose, and his lightning flickered crazily around him.

"Garth!" Rokk said sharply. "Calm down!"

The Winathian's blue eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but the lightning had reached uncontrollable levels. "Rokk, shield them."

"No."

"Rokk!"

"You can control this, Garth. Imra taught you how." Rokk had moved the recovering Imra out of Garth's direct range, but he had not taken any other steps to protect them. His violet eyes were serious, but there was faith in them too. "You can do this."

For a second Garth merely stood there staring at Rokk with electricity dancing over his skin, then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, recalling what Imra had told him.

* * *

_"You need to find an anchor, something that'll help you calm down whenever you get too angry or too anxious."_

_"Which is?"_

_Imra shrugged. "I don't know. That's for you to decide."_

_Garth frowned. "Well, how do I know what it is?"_

_"It'll be something – or someone – which makes you feel peaceful, and you'll usually also have a positive emotional connection to it. It's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of calm and serenity…" Imra's voice trailed off as she saw the picture in Garth's head. "Oh…" she said softly._

_Garth flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean –"_

_"No – no, that's okay…I mean, if that's what your anchor is…"_

_"I could change it," he offered quickly._

_Despite herself, Imra smiled slightly. "It doesn't work that way, Garth. If that's your anchor, stick with it."_

_"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly._

_"It's fine, Garth," she assured him, though her cheeks were slightly pink. "Shall we try again?"_

* * *

As his mind conjured up Imra's smiling face, Garth felt the lightning recede back into his body. The usual tingling intensified for an instant, but then gradually faded. He opened his eyes and saw several Science Police, Shvaughn included, still warily aiming their phasers at him. He held up his hands apologetically.

"It's okay, I've got it under control now," he assured them, his expression rueful. "Sorry."

Shvaughn narrowed her green eyes at him, and after a moment's consideration, she tucked her phaser back in its holster; the other Sci-Pol followed her lead. "Imra, are you all right?"

"I'm okay," Imra affirmed, to Garth and Rokk's relief. "I didn't get burned – it was more shock than anything."

"Thank Nath," Garth breathed.

"Glad to hear it," said Shvaughn. She crossed her arms and glared at them, her tone becoming stern. "Now –"

Imra's eyes flashed suddenly, and she turned her head to the ceiling. "Brande!"

Acting on instinct, Rokk formed a shield around Brande just as the gunshot rang out. Garth lit up the gallery where Shvaughn had been, revealing a cloaked figure running through the shadows created by his lightning.

"Who's that?" Rokk demanded.

"Another assassin," Imra replied.

"Seal all the exits!" Shvaughn barked to the Sci-Pol, who instantly moved to do so.

"He's not going that way," said Imra.

"Where's he going?" asked Garth.

"Out the roof."

"The roof?" sputtered Shvaughn.

A metal platform appeared next to them. "Hop on," Rokk said to Garth and Imra. They unhesitatingly clambered onto the metal, and Rokk made the platform shoot upwards.

"Hey!" Shvaughn yelled. "Where do you think you're going?!"

* * *

Rokk manipulated the platform to chase after the second assassin, keeping it as stable as he could, but Garth and Imra still wobbled for balance.

"Rokk, don't spill us over!" Garth yelped as he nearly fell off the platform, rescued only by the hand Imra shot out to grab him.

"I'm doing the best I can," Rokk retorted. "You want speed or you want stability?"

"I need to be stable to be useful!"

"Fine, fine!" Rokk concentrated, and a bit of metal moved up all their shoes, sheathing their feet and essentially gluing them to the platform. Once they were secure, he made the platform accelerate. "Which way did he go?"

"Right," said Imra. "There's a skylight in the north wing; he's going to break through there."

Without a word, Rokk made a sharp turn to the right which would have thrown them all off the platform if their feet weren't stuck in the metal.

"There he is!" Imra exclaimed, pointing as she caught sight of the fleeting figure turning a corner.

The assassin buried a shruiken in the main power switch, plunging the room into darkness. Garth reacted immediately, using his lightning to help them see, carefully keeping the electric charge from traveling through his feet and thereby conducting through the metal to shock Rokk and Imra. They had almost caught up to the assassin by this point – ten meters behind and closing in fast. Imra narrowed her eyes as their quarry clambered over a balcony.

"Garth, decide fast," she said. "I can knock him out, but you have to catch him before he falls to his death."

Rokk looked askance at this idea, but Garth had no qualms. "Do it."

Rokk let the metal recede from Garth's feet as Imra's eyes glowed with power; a second later, the assassin collapsed limply, toppling off the balcony. Garth launched himself from Rokk's platform, rocketing into the falling man and grabbing him with both hands as gravity pulled them downwards, to the horrified fascination of the auction guests and Sci-Pol who had made their way to the north wing. Rokk ignored them, fisting his hands as the platform shot forwards and downwards, catching Garth and the assassin before they hit the floor. There was a collective sigh of relief as Rokk landed the platform; some people even clapped, impressed by the display of power and teamwork.

"Ow," Garth groaned; his landing was gentler than it would have been if he hit the floor, but it certainly hadn't been soft.

"Are you all right, Garth?" Imra inquired.

"It's not something I want to do again," he confessed, "but Rokk caught me pretty well." He grinned at the Braalian, who huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome."

Garth handed the unconscious assassin over to a nearby Sci-Pol as several reporters started pressing towards the heroic trio. Surprisingly, Loretta Lane was the one exception. Garth's eyes widened slightly and he unconsciously backed up against Rokk and Imra. "Um…"

"Don't worry, Garth, I'll handle it," Rokk assured him, knowing the other boy was uncomfortable with the attention.

As it turned out, though, Rokk's intervention was unnecessary. Shvaughn pushed her way through the gathering crowd and took control of the situation, effectively dissuading the paparazzi from asking any of the numerous questions ready to spill from their lips.

"You three – any _more _assassins?" Shvaughn asked peevishly.

Imra shook her head. "No."

"Fantastic," the lieutenant deadpanne . "_Now _would you mind telling me what the sprock just happened?"

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. I don't think I explained this before, but Nath is the foremost god in Winath's pantheon of agricultural deities.**_


	15. Farewell, My Friends

**_A/N: Thanks to_**_leathman **for reviewing, and thanks also to **Lord Roko **for subscribing and favoriting. I'm glad you like the story - mind giving me some comments in the review section to elaborate? ;)**_

* * *

**Chapter XV: Farewell, My Friends**

_3 November 2998_

"Mr. Brande, are you all right?" Luornu asked anxiously. Her employer kindly brushed aside her concern.

"I'm fine, Luornu."

"Excuse me, Mr. Brande," interjected a Sci-Pol officer, "you'll need to come to NMPD HQ to give a statement."

"Of course," Brande agreed. "But first I need to thank those three young people – they saved my life at least three times tonight, I believe."

"All due respect, Mr. Brande, but we'd like to get you out of here as soon as possible. Given what's just happened, it may not be safe to stay."

Brande shook his head. "I have to speak to those two lads and that lass."

"We'll be bringing them back to the station to talk to them as well," said the Sci-Pol. "You can meet them there."

* * *

"Jan, Jan, come and look at this!" Reep stared in amazement at the live news screen and turned the volume up to hear Loretta Lane spinning a story of incredible heroics at the Superman Museum.

_"…in an extraordinary resolution to tonight's drama, three teenagers thwarted attempts of two assassins on the life of billionaire R.J. Brande. Captain Rokk Krinn of the Magnetic Knights, Imra Ardeen, daughter of Titanian Ambassador Sydne Ardeen, and Garth Ranzz of Winath teamed up to save Brande and catch both would-be killers. At this point in time, no one yet knows when these three young people started working together or how they knew to save Brande, but one thing is for certain: here in the Superman Museum, heroism is alive and well."_

"And I'm glad it was," said Jan Arrah, adopted son of R.J. Brande. "Because of them, Father is still alive."

"Do you think he's all right? Should we call?" Reep fretted.

"No. Father will call as soon as he is able – he wouldn't want us to risk exposing ourselves, especially not after two assassination attempts."

"But what if –"

"Reep," said Jan soothingly, "we know he's safe. The news would have said if the situation were otherwise. He would want us to be safe too."

Reep met his brother's assuring eyes and nodded.

* * *

To say that Chief Norg was startled when Shvaughn brought R.J. Brande, two assassins, _and_ the disheveled trio of Rokk, Garth, and Imra back to NMPD HQ was an understatement. A more accurate description would be to say that he was completely and utterly gobsmacked. After assigning Shvaughn to interrogate the two assassins and sending Captain Zendak to speak with Brande, he sat the three teens down in an interrogation room to listen to their explanations.

By the time they had finished piecing together the long, convoluted story, he was speechless.

"You say _Lyle _told you about the imminent attack on Brande's life?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yes," Imra affirmed. "Didn't he call you?"

Lon scowled. "No. And I'm going to have words with him about that when he gets back. We could have known about the serial killer connection days ago!" he ranted. "What the hell is Earthgov playing at keeping this intel from Sci-Pol?"

Rokk, Imra, and Garth exchanged glances. Lon exhaled and eyed Imra.

"If you're going to say 'I told you so', you can save your breath."

"I wasn't," Imra protested.

"Why didn't you tell me Lyle called, anyway?" Lon demanded.

"I thought it was for the best. Technically, he wasn't supposed to call anyone yet."

Lon frowned. "He went against orders?"

Imra shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"Hm." Lon's expression became thoughtful before he turned his gaze to Rokk and Garth. "I suppose congratulations are in order," he conceded grudgingly. "You three managed to run a private investigation and find out things we weren't even aware of, and you saved Brande – quite spectacularly, according to Lieutenant Erin."

"We're just glad we could help, sir," said Rokk.

"Do you know why Clyde was killing all those people?" asked Garth. The hooded man who had been killing New Metropolis' elite citizens had been identified as Carson Clyde, a working-class Metropolitan whose parents had died when he was a young boy.

Lon shrugged indifferently. "Typical revenge story. Clyde's parents worked for the New Metropolis branch of Brande's company, but they were killed in an industrial accident. He blamed Brande, but decided to extend his personal vendetta against him to the rich and famous in general."

"He was working his way up to Brande, killing all the others to make a point," Imra surmised.

"Exactly."

"What about the second assassin?" Garth queried.

"And how is that any of your business?" Lon asked tartly.

Garth bristled. "Well," he drawled, "I _threw_ myself into mid-air to –" He broke off with a muffled grunt as Rokk stepped on his foot. "I mean, I'm curious to know, if I may, sir," he amended.

Lon observed them critically for a few seconds before he responded, "Hired by Brande's business partner to kill him."

"Roderick Doyle?" Rokk was stunned. "Isn't he Brande's brother-in-law?"

"Well, apparently it's a dysfunctional family." Lon sighed, rubbing his temple.

"What happens now, Chief?" asked Imra.

"Now," answered Lon, "Brande wants to speak to the three of you, after which you can all go home."

"Brande wants to speak to us?" Garth perked up.

"Yes, he does." Lon rose. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

"There's no need, Chief Norg," said Brande as the door opened. Luornu trailed in after him. "Thank you, Captain," he said to Zendak, who nodded and left.

"Mr. Brande!" Rokk jumped to his feet, closely followed by Imra and Garth.

"Are you all right, sir?" Imra asked respectfully.

"I'm just fine, thanks to you three," Brande said sincerely. "I came here to thank you for saving my life. That was some display you put on at the museum."

"You couldn't have picked a better place to do it, too," Luornu interjected with a wry grin.

"You're welcome, sir," Rokk returned.

Brande smiled genially at him. "I know who you are, of course, Rokk – I sometimes watch the Magnetic Knights play. But I'm afraid I don't know the two of you." He looked at Garth and Imra. "What are your names, lad, lass?"

"Imra Ardeen, sir."

"Garth Ranzz."

Brande nodded. "Well, Garth, Imra, Rokk, I must say, I was quite impressed with how you handled your powers. The way you worked together was quite reminiscent of what the Teen Titans would have done."

"The Teen Titans?" Garth repeated quizzically.

Brande smiled. "Another team of the Age of Heroes, my boy. Lesser known than the Justice League, but no less heroic. When they first started, there were only five of them, and they were all teenagers, much like yourselves."

"We're honored that you would compare us to them, sir," said Imra humbly.

"Call me R.J., my dear girl – I think you've all earned that right." Brande suddenly looked thoughtful, but Luornu politely reminded him that he had a call to make.

"Mr. Brande, you should contact Orangewood."

The Durlan businessman instantly caught her meaning. "Quite right, Luornu, thank you." He turned to Lon and the three teens in turn. "Thank you for the Science Police's time and effort, Chief Norg. Rokk, Imra, Garth – you have my eternal gratitude, and I wish you all the best." He beamed at them all before he and Luornu exited Lon's office.

"Wow," Garth breathed once they were gone. His shining eyes were reflected in Rokk's and Imra's; Lon shook his head at their awed expressions.

"Go on, you three, get yourselves home," he directed. "And for the love of God, don't go starting another private investigation – I don't need any more drama."

* * *

It was a surprisingly quiet ride in Imra's hovercar back to her house. After the initial euphoric gushing and congratulating each other on their accomplishment, the car was mostly silent as each of them slowly processed the momentous events of the night and the resolution of their case. Imra kept her eyes on the roads, but Garth and Rokk could feel her telepathic presence to a greater extent than before, as though the night's events had cemented their already solid friendship. Rokk's expression remained solemnly thoughtful as he kept his gaze on the passing scenery outside the window. Garth played with a few small strands of lightning, periodically flicking glances at the other two.

Only when they had pulled up in Imra's driveway and begun walking into the house did they start talking again.

"What time do you leave?" Garth asked Rokk.

"The Knights' cruiser is scheduled to depart at 0800. Collazo will want me back by 0700, if not tonight."

"So are you leaving tonight?" Imra queried.

Rokk gave her a look. "Do you want me to?"

"No!" she said quickly, surprising herself and the boys with the force of her response. "I mean, it'd be nice…if you could stay tonight. It's our last night together, after all."

"Is Garth staying?" Rokk shifted his gaze to the other member of their group.

"'Course," said the redhead. "I don't exactly have anywhere else to be."

"Then I'll stay." Rokk smiled. "One last night." He entered the key code to open the front door.

**_"Welcome home, Imra, Rokk, Garth," _**greeted the droll voice of Merriweather. **_"Congratulations on your heroics."_**

"How does _he _know?" Garth demanded.

**_"I have a direct connection to most news feeds in the city, in order to help me better serve the members of this house by keeping them updated on current events," _**Merriweather replied before Imra could answer. **_"The most popular news item is your rescue of R.J. Brande."_**

"Of course it is," Garth muttered.

**_"By the way, Imra, I should warn you, you have a guest."_**

Imra frowned. "Who?"

"Hi there."

Rokk jumped and swore in shock at the voice by his shoulder. Garth's lightning automatically shrouded his body in defense, and Imra's eyes narrowed.

"Lyle, cut that out," she ordered. Both Rokk and Garth exclaimed in astonishment at the name while Lyle materialized in front of them, a sheepish look on his face.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"Gods, Lyle." Imra descended on him and squeezed him in a tight hug. "Don't _do _that again."

"No way, it's way too much fun…" He quailed slightly under the severe glare she gave him. "Not what you're talking about, huh?"

"No." Imra detached herself from him to make introductions. "Rokk, Garth, this is Lyle."

"Hi," Lyle said, holding out his hand. "Nice job saving Brande."

"Thanks." Garth was the first to shake his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

"Imra talks a lot about you," Rokk added, shaking Lyle's hand in turn.

"Does she?" Lyle grinned at Imra, who rolled her eyes. "I knew she loved me."

"You," she said sternly, "go see your father before he gets mad at me for not telling him you're back in town."

"I was planning on it," Lyle said hastily. "I just wanted to see you first."

Imra studied him intently. "What's going on, Lyle?"

Lyle's grin slipped off his face as he became serious. "I have another mission. I'll be away for a few months."

"A few _months_?" Imra exclaimed. "The longest you've ever been gone was three weeks!"

"First time for everything," Lyle quipped. "This is important, Imra."

"You can't tell me what the mission is?"

"Sorry, no. It's better if you don't know – not yet, anyway." He caught the look on her face and sighed. "I promise I'll be careful, Imra. You know I'm good – and hey, I can turn invisible whenever I want. Turns out the serum _is _permanent, and it seems to shield me from most forms of detection too. I'll be fine."

"When do you leave?" Imra asked.

"As soon as I see my dad. Which I should do now, actually."

Imra nodded understandingly, though she clearly didn't like it. "Okay." She hugged him again. "Be safe, Lyle."

"Will do. Bye, Merriweather!" he called.

**_"Farewell, Lyle."_**

Lyle winked at them and slipped out the door.

"Something's up, isn't it?" Rokk observed perceptively as the door closed behind the young spy.

Imra exhaled. "Definitely."

"Will he be all right?" Garth inquired.

"He always has been before." She turned back to them and smiled. "We should celebrate our own successful mission. What do you want to do?"

"Eat."

Both Rokk and Imra stared at Garth, who held up his hands defensively.

"Hey, churning out lightning like that takes a lot of juice."

Rokk scoffed. "That's just an excuse for you to pig out on Imra's food."

"Are you complaining?"

Rokk smirked. "No. Imra has good food."

_"Boys," _Imra huffed. "All right, then, supper it is. Let's go."

They made their way to the kitchen, already striking up a lively conversation, each of them determined to enjoy each other's company before they parted ways in the morning.

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. Apologies to those who may have been expecting the reveal of the assassins to be a bit more climatic instead of having them turn out to be complete OCs. In all honesty, the assassins were a mere plot device - and even in the original comic canon the assassin was totally unimportant except for the fact that he was hired by Doyle to kill Brande and thus indirectly caused the Legion of Superheroes to be founded.**_

_**2\. Brande takes the security of his family VERY seriously. As mentioned in-universe, the general public aren't even aware he has children, and he would like to keep it that way.**_

_**3\. If you haven't clued in already, you all should pay attention to what Lyle's getting up to.**_

_**4\. Only two more updates to go. Start reviewing, peeps!**_


	16. I Swear Fealty

_**A/N: Yay, two reviews! Thank you, **The Violet Rose **and **leathman**!**  
_

* * *

**Chapter XVI: I Swear Fealty**

_6 January 2999_

The city of New Metropolis not only had the honor of being the home of Superman, but it was also the capital of Earth. As such, one of its boroughs, Capitol Hill (a comparatively small area encompassing what was formerly Washington, D.C.) was the diplomatic center of the planet, being the location of Earthgov Headquarters and various other official buildings. Capitol Hill was the only borough in New Metropolis that was guarded by both the Science Police and the Terran Security Agency (TSA). Just as New Metropolis was the capital of Earth, Earth was the capital of the United Planets, and Capitol Hill was also the location of Whitehall, the capacious demesne of the most powerful person in the U.P.

In the stylish dining room of the Whitehall mansion, the President of the United Planets poured tea for her guest.

"It's nice of you to visit, Rene," Winema Wazzo said graciously as she topped up Brande's drink and then proceeded to fill her own cup. "I know it's not a long trip from Osterkey, but you're a very busy man."

"And you, my dear, are a very busy woman," Brande returned. "How was your meeting with the new mayor?"

Winema exhaled. "Jeanne Chu is not as personable as Berkowitz was, but she's a woman who knows her own mind. She's always been a far better leader than Fleming, even while she was serving as deputy mayor. I think her confidence will be good for the city after the upheaval of the past few months."

"Hm, I suppose," Brande said noncommittally; he had yet to make up his mind about Mayor Chu. Brande prided himself on being an astute judge of character, but recent events had proved that his trust radar could sometimes malfunction. Roderick had been a trusted friend and business partner to him for years; how he had missed the resentment his brother-in-law held for him was beyond his comprehension. "Have you given any thought to my proposal?"

"I have." Winema pursed her lips. "I'm still not sure it's a good idea."

"Did you not see what they did at the Superman Museum?"

"I did, and I _am _impressed – but they _are _very young, Rene. And there are only three of them."

"No, no, Winema, you don't understand." Brande leaned forward eagerly. "I'm sure there are many young people like them who want to make a difference in the universe. There are so many metahumans in this day and age – think what a wonderful force for good they could be if they were a proper team."

"What I think," said Winema, "is that you are trying to make them the new Justice League – which is a lot to demand from a band of teenagers."

"They can handle more than you think, Winema."

"That may be so, but you're talking about giving them huge peacekeeping responsibilities. Even the Justice League needed over 60 members to make the sort of impact you're envisioning. And heaven knows the moral degradation of this century is ten times worse than what the League had to deal with."

"You're not listening, Winema." Brande shook his head patiently. "I don't want to make them the League. Much as I admire the Justice League, they're not what the United Planets needs – they wouldn't be able to work in this social and political climate. These kids are different. They can and have made a difference already – their heroics at the museum were the buzz of town for a month. I see them as the successors of the League, people who can carry on the legacy of the Age of Heroes and adapt it to the 30th – the 31st – century. We need those kids, and others like them, to make the future."

Winema looked thoughtful. "You make a compelling argument, Rene," she said with a smile.

Brande chortled, though the passionate light in his eyes remained. "I should hope so. I've been trying to persuade you for weeks. So how about it, Winema?" he prompted. "Will you charter the Legion of Superheroes?"

Winema met his eyes directly. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow."

Brande inclined his head, accepting that, and for the next twenty minutes their conversation included nothing of politics or business, remaining simply the banter of two old friends.

After their tea was over and Brande had left, Winema remained in the dining room, mulling contemplatively over the proposal Brande had been trying to convince her of since November. After many persistent conversations on the Durlan's part, Winema was beginning to see the merits of his idea.

"Tinya," she called to the daughter who had just breezed past the archway to the dining room.

The brunette 16-year-old backtracked and thrust her head through the wall. "Yes, Mom?"

"Could you bring me the e-papers in the left drawer of my desk, please?"

"R.J. Brande's proposal?" Tinya guessed before she could stop herself. Winema fixed her with a stare.

"And what do _you _know about it?"

"Erm…" Tinya had the grace to look sheepish. "I may have…read a little…or all of it." She deliberately did not look at her mother.

"Tinya."

"I was returning a datapad and it was out in the open on your desk – I couldn't help it!"

Winema exhaled, half-amused, half-suspicious. "Just fetch it for me, please."

"Okay, okay…" Tinya's head withdrew from the wall, but not two seconds later it reappeared. "By the way, I think it's a good idea." She vanished again before her mother could say anything, leaving Winema blinking at her sudden declaration.

* * *

_15 January 2999_

Garth made his way through the streets, whistling to himself as he navigated corners and alleys with ease. He still hadn't gotten used to how huge and crowded New Metropolis was, but in most other aspects he had adapted well to city life. He had learned the layout of the New Troy surprisingly quickly; it had taken him just one trial to memorize the roads from Imra's house to the mechanic shop where he worked, and less than a fortnight (not counting the week he spent with Imra and Rokk) to explore most of the borough.

He casually strolled across a main road – timing his walk perfectly to coincide with the changing of the traffic orbs at the intersection – and grinned to himself. If he spent any more time in the city he was going to turn into a true New Metropolis citizen.

After that day at the Superman Museum, Rokk had left with the Magnetic Knights, but Garth decided to find a job and stay on in New Metropolis, even though his reason for being on Earth – i.e. to master his lightning powers – was already accomplished thanks to Rokk and Imra. Imra had since graduated with honors from the Science Police Academy and was now working full time as a Sci-Pol officer.

Thanks to the fame he gained from his part in saving Brande, it had been relatively easy for Garth to find work. Living quarters, however, were a different matter entirely; it was hard to find a decent apartment in New Troy on the minimum wage he was getting. Luckily for him, after a week with no success, Sydne Ardeen (who by now knew all about her daughter's antics while she was away) offered to let him continue staying in their house. Garth had agreed, on the condition that he pay rent, and the Ardeen household made the transition from two persons to three with a minimum of friction. Garth was quite happy with the arrangement – part of it was due to the fact that he got to spend quite a bit of time with Imra; he was honestly amazed at how natural it felt to live in the same house with her.

He reached the Ardeen house and keyed in the pass code without even looking.

**_"Welcome back,_**_ **Garth," **_droned Merriweather as the front doors slid open. **_"Destroyed any hovercars today?"_**

"Hullo, Merry – caught any viruses today?" Garth snarked back.

**_"Please refrain from addressing me like that."_**

"Not a chance." He and the AI shared a strange relationship – they got along well enough, but they also argued often because of the inevitable clashes between Garth's impatience and Merriweather's sarcasm. In a moment of mischief one day Garth had shortened Merriweather's name to Merry, which the AI took offense to – so of course, Garth refused to stop.

Imra met him in the foyer, to Garth's surprise.

"What are you doing home?" he inquired. "I thought your shift at the precinct didn't end till 2000?"

"Roon Dvron had to take emergency leave for tomorrow – some family issue came up – so he traded shifts with me." Imra held up a video invite. "This appeared on the instamail. It's addressed to both of us."

"Who's it from?" asked Garth.

"Don't know. Haven't opened it yet."

"Well, let's see." Garth sidled up next to Imra and swiped his thumb along the top edge of the thin plastic square. The video paper brightened and the text that bore their names dissolved as Luornu Durgo's image appeared.

_"Hello, Imra and Garth," _the digital recording of Brande's secretary said with a smile. _"This is to invite you to a meeting with Mr. Brande at 2000 tonight, in the north wing of the Superman Museum. Mr. Brande has a proposal he thinks you might be interested in. I'll see you there." _Luornu's image gave a little wave before the square went dark again.

Garth and Imra exchanged glances, puzzled.

"A proposal?" Garth queried. Imra shrugged.

**_"Imra, there's a visitor at the front door," _**Merriweather informed. **_"Shall I let him in?"_**

"Who is it?" asked Imra.

**_"Does a certain Magnoball captain ring any bells?"_**

Garth and Imra looked at each other again, this time grinning.

"Let him in, Merriweather."

The front door swished open, and Rokk entered. Imra beamed and went to hug him.

"Rokk! When did you get here?" she inquired as she pulled away.

"I arrived this afternoon. Hello, Garth."

Garth acknowledged his greeting with a smirk. "What brings you back to New Metropolis? Another tour?"

Rokk looked nonplussed. "No, I'm here for the meeting with Brande." His two friends blinked in surprise.

"Luornu invited you too?" questioned Garth.

"Yes, she did. 2000 at the Superman Museum, right?"

Imra nodded. "Yes, that's right. What do you suppose Brande wants to talk to us about?" she wondered.

**_"I would assume that the purpose of going to the meeting would be to find out this very thing, would it not?"_**

Garth and Imra rolled their eyes simultaneously; Rokk smirked. "I see Merriweather hasn't lost his touch."

"You have _no _idea," Garth told him.

"He's right, though," said Rokk. "The only way we'll know what Brande wants is if we go meet him tonight."

"There's still another hour and a half to go before 2000," Imra noted. "Rokk, have you eaten?"

Rokk grinned. "Nope. Your kitchen?" he asked hopefully. Imra laughed.

"Come on, then."

* * *

"So, what've you been up to, Rokk?" Garth asked as they bundled into Imra's hovercar to drive to the museum.

"Training, mostly," replied the other boy. "The season starts again next month, and we've drawn the Lodestones for our first match."

"Is that idiot Kort Grezz still with the Lodestones?"

"Yes."

Garth snorted. "You've got nothing to worry about, then. Grezz isn't nearly as good a pilot as you are."

"A compliment, Garth?" Rokk teased. "You _have _mellowed, haven't you?"

"Shut up."

It didn't take them long to reach the Superman Museum; the 15-meter golden statue gleamed in the glow of the city's nightlights. Imra parked the car and they all disembarked. As it turned out, they were a little early, and Brande hadn't yet arrived – so they decided to look around the museum.

"I wonder what he was like," Imra mused, her eyes faraway as she gazed at the life-size mural of the Man of Steel on one wall of the entrance hall.

"Who? Superman?" Garth followed her gaze and shrugged. "He was a legend, that's what he was."

"No, I mean as a person," said Imra. "You know – what things he liked, how he spent his free time, where he went with his friends…" She smiled softly. "We have all these stories about what an amazing hero he was and what incredible things he did as Superman…but I think I would've liked to know who Clark Kent was."

"Maybe Loretta Lane would be able to tell you," suggested Rokk.

"Well, I know he was a farm boy." There was an undeniable tone of pride in Garth's voice. Rokk rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Garth, but I don't think Superman's temperament was anything like _yours_."

"'Course not." Garth waved a hand dismissively. "Look at him – I bet he was a real boy scout."

They eventually made their way to the north wing, the part of the museum dedicated to Superman's friends and allies; mementos of the Justice League took up more than half the space here. Of particular prominence was a large floor-to-ceiling holoscreen that ran a constant slideshow of images of all the League's members. As fate had it, the display was currently on the beginning of its (very long) loop, and was flipping through pictures of the League's Original Seven. Rokk, Garth, and Imra watched in fascination as Superman's portrait was succeeded by images of Batman I, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern II, Flash III, Martian Manhunter, and Hawkgirl. The slideshow then proceeded to go through the rest of the League's substantial roster; they hadn't even managed to view all the first generation members by the time Brande arrived.

To the trio's astonishment, Brande wasn't alone. Aside from Luornu, whom they had expected, a pale-skinned girl with large grey eyes and long black hair walked into the room, followed by the President of the United Planets.

Imra was the first to recover. "Madam President!" she exclaimed, inclining her head respectfully in greeting. Rokk and Garth were quick to follow her lead.

"Hello, Imra, Rokk, Garth," Winema replied graciously; all three were pleasantly surprised that she knew their names. "Brande's told me all about your heroics in saving his life. You are quite the resourceful trio." The black-haired girl cleared her throat, and Winema added, "This is my daughter, Tinya."

"Nice to meet you," said Rokk.

"Likewise." Tinya flashed them a rather impish grin, implying that she wasn't as demure and proper as she seemed.

"What are you doing here, Madam President?" asked Garth.

Winema gestured at Brande. "I'll let Brande explain."

"Thank you, Winema." Brande smiled at her before he turned to the trio. "Rokk, Garth, Imra – what the three of you did here two and a half months ago was outstanding. It was a magnificent display of your abilities and teamwork – and more than that, it was a wonderful statement of how strongly you believe in doing the right thing. Very few teenagers would have shown the initiative and tenacity you did to uncover the plot behind those murders, and fewer still would have had the determination to take matters into their own hands when the Science Police didn't do enough. Now, I'm not saying the Science Police are inadequate – far from it, really – but I do believe that heroes are needed in every age."

Here he paused to beam at them. "Heroes like yourselves." He waved at the room around him. "What you see here is a tribute to the greatest team of heroes the universe has ever known. Every single member in the Justice League donned a cape or a cowl because they wanted to fight for truth, justice, and hope. They were a symbol of courage and strength to the entire Earth, and the difference they were able to make by working together was nothing short of amazing. And in you three, I see their heroic legacy alive and vibrant.

"Times have changed since then, of course – but the United Planets needs heroes just as much as 21st century Earth did. Therefore, I would like to form a new team, a team of like-minded young people who can do for the United Planets what the Justice League did for Earth…and I would like you three to be the founders of this team."

Rokk, Imra, and Garth exchanged glances.

"Take your time to decide," Winema advised. "It's an extremely ambitious undertaking – though I must admit, Brande's vision for this team and the United Planets is rather appealing."

They nodded, acknowledging her words. Then Rokk spoke up. "Mr. Brande…"

"R.J., Rokk," Brande corrected him.

"R.J.," Rokk amended. "This idea of yours…I think it could be something very big – but as you said, not many teenagers would have done what we did. How would we find enough people to join this team?"

"Lead by example," Luornu answered unexpectedly. "They may not be the majority, but there _are_ quite a number of youngsters who long to make a difference, but don't know how. When you set the example, and you show them how, you won't need to find them. They'll find you." She smiled softly. "You've already got one teenager in this room itself who'll join you."

Garth blinked; she was obviously referring to herself. "Really?"

"Really," Luornu confirmed. "That is, if that's okay with you, Mr. Brande?"

"Of course!" Brande looked delighted. "Who am I to deny you the chance to do something that makes a difference? You're welcome to join, Luornu. The only problem is that I'll have to find a new secretary," he joked.

"I'll join too," Tinya volunteered.

"You will? Winema, unlike Brande, didn't look entirely enthused by her daughter's declaration.

"Everyone knows me as the President's daughter, which isn't what I want to be," said Tinya. "I want to do something worthwhile, something that makes me more than the President's daughter – something which I can do as Tinya Wazzo, not Winema Wazzo's daughter. Plus," she added, "if I'm going to do something, I might as well do it with people my own age."

"She has a point, Winema," said Brande.

Winema sighed, with what could have been either disappointment or acceptance. "Of course she does."

"Well, lads, lass?" Brande turned back to the three who had started it all. "What do you say?"

They met each other's eyes – Garth grinning, Imra inquiring, Rokk resolute – and as one, they turned to face Brande.

"Yes."

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. If you'll notice, I reference the "first-generation" members of the Justice League. This means all the members who have appeared in Diamond Earth stories thus far and several more who will join in later stories. I have actually come up with a second- and even a third-generation roster for DE Justice League, and I may or may not do one or two stories about them - but that would be much, MUCH later.  
**_

_**2\. You will find out what Lyle's up to in the epilogue tomorrow.**_


	17. The Changing of the Guard

_**A/N: Hi y'all! Sorry I didn't update yesterday - I was super busy and didn't have the time to. Anyway, just wanted to thank those of you who have been reading and reviewing - especially those who were reviewing. Special thanks to **leathman**, who never missed a chapter. **  
_

_**And here's the last chapter for all of you.**_

* * *

**Epilogue: The Changing of the Guard**

_20 January 2999_

The Legion of Superheroes was officially established by President Wazzo and R.J. Brande in a public ceremony that was broadcast throughout the United Planets. Most citizens in New Metropolis still remembered the intrepid trio who had saved Brande's life, and they watched with great interest as the teens stood in front of the Superman statue and vowed to do their best to follow in the footsteps of the man whose shadow they stood under.

Rokk Krinn was the first to be announced as an official member of the new team. The magnetic master had announced his resignation from the Magnetic Knights the day before (after a heart-to-heart with his teammates), and today he took the name Cosmic Boy, becoming the first Legionnaire. His confidence and charisma meant that he was the automatic choice to lead the new group of superheroes. He did not forget where he had come from, however – his hero costume followed the same purple and black color scheme of his Magnetic Knights uniform, except that the knight and horse logo of his old team had been replaced by three small metal hemispheres attached to the fabric on his chest.

Imra Ardeen had surprised many in the force when she tendered her resignation to Chief Norg the day after she met with Brande, but Imra herself had had no second thoughts whatsoever. She knew immediately that she wanted to commit herself one hundred percent to the Legion of Superheroes, and she accordingly named herself Saturn Girl, referencing her Titanian heritage. The basic design of her outfit was almost identical to Cosmic Boy's, substituting pink and white for his purple and black, and she had paired it with white boots and gloves. Her choice of a symbol was a golden Saturn emblazoned across the middle of her chest.

Garth Ranzz had a proud family watching from Winath as he took his oath. He had gone for the rather obvious codename Lightning Lad, and opted for a different uniform design than either of his two co-founders. His pants were black with a thick white strip running along the inner side of each leg, and his top was solid black except for the two golden lightning bolts extending from his shoulders and angling towards the center of his waist. The rims of his black gloves and boots were also edged with jagged lightning bolts.

Aside from the three founders, there were two other Legionnaires sworn in that day. Luornu Durgo and Tinya Wazzo both fulfilled their promise of joining the team. Luornu was Triplicate Girl, a slender, sassy heroine who dared to wear a tri-colored minidress and thigh-high heeled white boots to fight crime. She had further gotten into the part by dyeing three locks on the right side of her brown bobbed hair orange, purple, and white to match her dress. The newly christened Phantom Girl, on the other hand, wore a more staid black and silver-white one-piece pantsuit which hugged her form. She was the only one on the team to wear a cape, and her status as the President's daughter drew the attention of many in the United Planets.

The chatter began almost immediately after the ceremony closed, as people all over the United Planets reacted in various ways to what had just occurred. Lon Norg shook his head and promptly returned to running NMPD, sparing barely a thought for the team his son's friend had decided to found. Shvaughn Erin wondered what the teens could do that Sci-Pol couldn't, and fretted over the potential media lashing if they did a better job than the Science Police. Gigi Cusimano was looking forward to seeing how far the Legion would go, and discussed the team animatedly with her partner Gim Allon. Mayor Chu came to the conclusion that the Legion might be a great help in her plans to revitalize New Metropolis. Mekt Ranzz had to do a double take when he realized his brother was being celebrated as a hero on interplanetary television. Loretta Lane smiled secretly to herself and rejoiced at the continuation of her ancestor's legacy.

And throughout the United Planets, there were, as Brande predicted, many young people who thrilled to hear of the Legion of Superheroes, and who began to wonder if they too could take up the challenge to usher in a new Age of Heroes.

* * *

Lyle chuckled to himself as he closed the news screen of the new Legionnaires waving to the crowd who had witnessed their inauguration. In his mind, Imra, Rokk, and Garth had worked so well together that it was almost inevitable something like this would have happened. The Legion even appeared to be a team he wouldn't mind joining, but Lyle had something more important to do first.

Earthgov Intelligence had its roots in the Great Crisis, an apocalyptic cataclysm that overwhelmed Earth in the mid-23rd century and lasted for some 50 years. The Crisis was so catastrophic that it utterly annihilated at least a third of the Earth's population and destroyed civilization as it was known. When the dust finally settled, the shattered remnants of Earth's various governments reformed as a single administration united in their quest to rebuild and restore the planet. The very first department the new regime created was an intelligence unit, a group of the brightest minds from all nationalities (which no longer existed) assigned to research information to aid in the reconstruction of civilization. The unit's duties later extended to include espionage to protect the fledgling post-Crisis society from extraterrestrials who sought to tear down the new Earth.

Over time, Earth not only rebuilt, but embarked on a period of exploration and expansion that saw many planets colonized by humans and non-Terrans alike. The huge leaps in technological advancement after Earth recovered to its pre-Crisis state spawned thousands of new inventions which all served to create a futuristic and modern society that was as far removed from pre-Crisis Earth as the 21st century was from the Middle Ages. As Earth underwent its overhaul, its new leaders arranged themselves into a more organized, official planetwide government called Earthgov, and the intelligence unit that was their most valuable asset in the early post-Crisis years was formally inaugurated as Earthgov Intelligence. By the 27th century, EI had established itself as a highly efficient and well-run agency, with a large network of trained spies, analysts, and technicians who all worked to gather vital intel on a variety of situations, from historical research to criminal enterprises to interplanetary negotiations.

Lyle Norg had first come to the agency's attention when he devised an AI program that used a complex set of algorithms to identify and predict patterns in criminal behavior and activity with unprecedented accuracy – at age eleven. After approaching him, EI updated their intelligence system with his invention and then recruited him for their organization. With his unparalleled intellect and inherent stealth skills, Lyle thrived as an intelligence agent, and his unique position as the son of Chief Norg of the Science Police also made him an unofficial liaison between the two organizations in New Metropolis. EI had also purchased several of his later inventions for use in their network.

Recently, however, Lyle had begun to suspect that Earthgov Intelligence had fallen prey to corruption – ever since Christina Fleming beat Frank Berkowitz for the mayoral position. His superiors' orders had started to become more questionable soon after the election two years ago, and Lyle had started running his own private investigation, falling back on his skills of hacking and eavesdropping in an effort to find evidence of duplicity in the agency. He hadn't had much luck – EI's security was even tighter than President Wazzo's. Thus, he'd had to find another way, and he did.

Lyle's true motive for creating his invisibility serum was to enable him to advance his investigation into the inner workings of EI; in fact, he had deliberately worked to create a formula that would not only allow him to turn invisible at will, but that would totally shield him from all types of detection as well. Now that his new powers gave him the ability to spy better than ever before, Lyle was determined to get to the bottom of the matter – especially after the way EI handled the recent serial murder case, which had only solidified his assumption that something was wrong within the administration. EI knew by around the third murder that there was a serial killer in New Metropolis, but Lyle's handler in the agency had given him strict orders not to reveal anything to the Science Police.

Needless to say, he had kept the serum a secret from his handler.

_Let Imra and the rest fight crime out in the open like the heroes of old, _Lyle thought decisively. _I'm going to find out what Earthgov is hiding._

**To be continued…**

* * *

_**A/A:**_

_**1\. Yep, cliffie. Sort of. Here's how it's going to work in my Diamond Earth Legion stories: they'll all each have their own plot, but on the sidelines or in the background there will be a bigger story arc developing. If you read carefully you might be able to predict where it's going.**_

_**2\. Thank you, again, to all of you for reading, favoriting, subscribing, and/or reviewing - though I didn't seem to have many doing any of those for this story, the few who did still made me happy, and I was glad to share this fic with you.**_


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